


To know you is to hate you.

by deadbeatgrouch (Deducingsocks)



Category: Green Day
Genre: M/M, Mental health disorder, Violence, male/male relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 34,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deducingsocks/pseuds/deadbeatgrouch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billie Joe suffered a head injury. Everything was alright, some stitches and nothing more, but is Mike the only one who notices any difference in the singer?</p><p>[Introducing the Reverend Strychnine Twitch and Fink. If you didn't know already they are alternative names that Billie Joe Armstrong goes by in his other projects The Foxboro Hot Tubs and The Network. Tre Cool and Mike Dirnt also join him in these side projects and of course in the story. Appearances from Jason White and Jason Freese are also mentioned as 'The Jasons' because referring to them both separately would require me to find out how the hell they refer to them both (be it by surnames or what have you]</p><p>*Plan to rewrite*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This has not be betaed.  
> If you would like to beta, do contact me.
> 
> [This was written when I was 16 - Approx 4 years ago. Spelling and grammar are not the best.]

It was 5am on a Friday morning when I got the phone call. As expected I had been asleep in my bunk on the tour bus. Tre was snoring on the bed above mine and Jason was asleep in front of the television. But Billie Joe’s bed lay empty across from me.

I searched for the cell through my tangled sheets and put it to my ear. I was expecting to hear my best friend’s cheerful voice but I was rather surprised to hear that of a woman’s; a woman who definitely wasn’t Brittney or Adie.

“Is this Mike?” my name was said carefully as if she wasn’t sure of it.

“Yeah.” I rubbed at my eyes with my knuckles, “What’s up?”

“A man here has you as his ‘ICE’. He told us to call you. At least we think he said that.”

I sat up so fast that I rattled my head off the top bunk. Tre stirred and mumbled. What did she mean ‘we think’?

“B-Billie Joe. Is he okay?” I knew it was him, no one else had me as their ‘ICE’.

“He’s unconscious but he’ll be fine –“

“What happened!?” I demanded.

“If you could come down to the hospital I can explain everything to you sir.” She sounded frightened but at that moment I couldn’t care less; my best friend was laying in a god forsaken hospital alone and unconscious.

I hung up and immediately began to pull on a pair of pants and a shirt. Tre sat up in his bunk.

“What’s going on?” He yawned.

“BJ’s in the hospital. I’m going down there to see if he’s okay.”

“Shit sticks! Is he okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know. But you should stay here.”

“No fuckin way—“

“No Tre! Just stay here!” I cut him off abruptly and dashed from the room.

I lifted a set of keys from the coffee table and left before I could be questioned any further.

**************

A war was being waged between my rational brain and my imagination. One part reassured me that Billie Joe would be fine, while the other tried to convince me that he wouldn’t. It was optimism verses worst case scenario.

At the hospital, as I paced down the corridors, I debated whether to call Adi and the boys. When I was directed into Billie Joe’s room I decided it wasn’t necessary. He was sitting upright, his head wrapped in cloth bandages and talking to a young nurse. The doctor had already explained to me that he had to receive ten stitches on his temple and that he could be rather confused at times. However he smiled weakly at me when I entered and motioned to the chair beside his bed.

“BJ are you okay?” I asked taking a seat.

“Completely. This here,” He pointed to the bandages, “Is just something I’m tryin out.”

I chuckled.

“What happened?”

“I don’t really remember. I was getting smokes at a store and on the way back to the bus I was jumped. Everything kinda is fuzzy after that.” He looked down at his hands and gingerly gazed back up at me.

“Shit man.” I replied quietly.

“Don’t worry about it. It could have been worse and I’m willing to bet that they’ll let me leave now. “

He stared down at his sheets; his eyes were glazed and dull. For a moment I saw nothing of my best friend and instead I saw a stranger. The green of his eyes seemed brighter than usual and his smile was crooked.

“Billie Joe?” I questioned.

“What?” He looked up at me, “Who?”

That struck me dumb. Was he playing with me?

“I said 'Billie Joe'.”

He seemed to mull it over for a moment before gently shaking his head and flashing me his pearly whites.

“Yeah, sorry dude, blacked out there for a second. Was thinkin about a large cup of coffee and reruns of X-Files on the tour bus.”

I tried to laugh, I really did, but I couldn’t help worrying about his behaviour. The doctor popped back in to inform Billie Joe that he could get dressed and discharge himself and while he did that I took the opportunity to talk to the doctor.

“Are you sure he’ll be okay?” I asked her.

“He should be, but if anything comes up you should bring him back immediately.” She checked her charts as she spoke and ‘hmm’ed to herself.

“We’re actually leaving today. We’re in a band and right now we’re on tour –“

“Well I am afraid that Mr Armstrong will have to take it easy for a few days.”

Lucky for him we weren’t actually playing for another few days, it was mostly travelling that would be done over the next few hours. I neglected to give her this information and simply nodded. Billie Joe joined us in the hallways fully dressed in his stripy t-shirt, jeans and converse. He ran his fingers through his hair in a vain attempted to style it.

“Make sure and put your feet up when you get home.” The doctor smiled, “I don’t want to be hearing of any more injuries.”

“Sure thing sweetheart.” He joked.

We bid her farewell and left the rowdy emergency room. Although Billie Joe was acting like his normal self, cracking jokes and chattering, I couldn’t help but get an eerie feeling from him.


	2. He ain't my brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not betaed.  
> If you would like to beta please contact me.

Billie Joe curled up on the couch with a blanket and the remote control as soon as he set foot on the bus. Tre and Jason bombarded me with questioned, not wanting to annoy Billie, and I explained everything while I made myself a well deserved coffee.

“We should just watch out for him y’know? And he’ll have to take it easy.” I said.

Neither of them had any problems with taking it easy. The downfall of being in a band was always being on the move and the tiring business of touring. Don't get me wrong, we loved it but it just played on your nerves.

“I think we should get him the once over when we reach the next town.” Jason replied.

“Yeah! Yeah that’s good! Let’s do that!” Tre was over excited about getting to spend the next day relaxing and watching television.

Jason left us to hang out in one of the other buses when we started to move. Tre made coffee for all of us and I served up pancakes. Billie Joe looked so small hunched up in the corner of the couch with his knees drawn up to his chin. When I set down the plate of food on the coffee table he was the only one who didn't immediately reach out for one. He simply glanced at it and then back to the television. His coffee was grasped between his two hands, like a small child might hold a bottle.

Re-runs of Friends was playing on the television and I couldn’t help but notice how intently he watched it. He was unusually silent as well.

“For the sake of fuck!” Tre complained as the opening theme began to play, “I’ve seen this a bizillion times!”

“I haven’t.” Billie Joe muttered quietly.

“Dude you have! We’ve all watched this so much we could recite every line!”

“No I haven’t!”

Tre fell silent at Billie’s stern comeback. It wasn’t like him to become angry over something so small.

“O-okay.” The drummer glanced at me, “Chill BJ.”

Tre settled down and watched the show without any further complaints. I, however, couldn’t take my eyes off Billie. Something was different about him. One moment he seemed perfectly like himself and the next he was a stranger. It was just the little things he did; the way he spoke, the way he sat and the expressions he held on his face. Even the he scratched his chin and twitched his nose.The changes were so sudden that it was hard to tell when they stopped and started.

Tre didn’t seem so concerned. He was rather content to watch the rerun and sip his mocha coffee. But I did catch him glancing worryingly at me as if pleading for some sort of answer.

God, I wish I knew.

We remained like this for a while, I got up to top up my coffee while Tre and Billie talked and watched television. The singer was perfectly normal, if not a little confused at times, after his sudden outburst and it wasn’t mentioned between us again. He was rather to cheery for a guy who had taken a blow to the skull.

**********

Eventually our traveling came to a brief halt outside a gas station and Tre disembarked the vehicle to get some cigarettes and food. I sat beside Billie Joe and took this opportunity to check if he was really okay.

“How are you feeling Bill.” I asked.

He looked at me and shrugged.

“Just fine Mikey. I mean my head hurts like a mother – fucker but I’ll be fine.” Mid sentence he looked back to the television.

I was more than a little relieved. Maybe what the doctor had said covered more than just confusion and his little ‘outburst'’ was just a side effect of the injury? If I’m honest, I was just glad to have him alive. I couldn’t imagine my life without the man! If he had been killed I would never have forgiven myself and I know for a fact that Adi would be as inconsolable as me.

I lent across and slipped my arm around his slim shoulders, in a friendly gesture and nothing more. His body stiffened and his head snapped round to meet mine.

“What the fuck!?” He screamed and pushed me off him, “Y-you fucking fag!”

I stared at him in total awe and bewilderment. We hugged and held each other all the time. Hell! He had even kissed me on more than several occasions. He enjoyed showing this off on stage, in front of millions of people, and found it entertaining when I slapped his ass in front of the screaming fans. The Billie Joe I knew was not coy about touching other men.

“Billie Joe, man, what did I do?!” I stammered.

“You fucking touched me! Don’t ever put your arms round me-“ He stopped and gazed at me through narrowed eyes, he cocked his head to the side and chewed his bottom lip, “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

That hurt; it stung like a kick in the balls. If he was playing, it really wasn’t funny.

“It’s me, Mike.”

“Mike? I don’t know anyone called Mike.”

Somehow I knew he wasn’t playing.

He stood up and let the blanket fall from his shoulders. Slowly he moved by me, keeping his eyes on mine the whole time.

“I’m going to bed. “

That was it. He went into the bed room and slammed the door leaving me to mull over what had just happened. I heard Tre step into the bus, carrying what I assumed was plastic bags.

He rummaged through the groceries behind me humming lightly to himself. Seconds later he shouted at me from the kitchenette.

“Think fast!”

I was hit on the back of the head by a packet, of what I can only assume, was cigarettes. I didn’t move although I did feel rather stunned.

“Mike?” He wondered over and knelt beside me, “Michael Dirnt!?” his hand was waved in front of my eyes before he jumped to his feet, “Oh my Jesus! He’s dead!”

“I’m not dead you jackass!” I rolled my eyes at him.

“What’s the jizz with you sitting so fucking still like a zombie mother?!”

I didn’t want to mention what had happened with Billie. Somehow I think Tre wouldn’t understand.Well, no, that's not fair, he would understand. I just think he would put it down to me over reacting at one of Billie's jokes. Which I clearly wasn't. Nothing about this was a joke.

“Nothing. I’m just coffee deprived.” It was somewhat of a half truth.

“Okay dude, well let me rustle you up a ‘Monsieur Cool surprise.’ “he moved to the kitchen and I turned in my chair to watch him.

“What the hell is that?” I asked.

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” His grin was scary wide.

He searched through the cupboards and placed things from the bags into them. The kettle was bowling beside him and he had my overly large coffee mug on the counter ready to be filled with whatever concoction he had in mind.

“Wheres BJ?” He asked mid – spoonful of caffeine.

“He went to bed.” I muttered.

“Oh. Understandable, the tyke must be out of it; what with getting a mother fucker of a hit to the head.”

I didn’t reply. I just turned my eyes back to the television and waited for my drink. What Billie Joe had said had really hurt me and there was no longer any doubt in my mind that the singer had suffered some sort of mental injury. I knew it couldn’t have been his conscious mind which had spoken to me in such a harsh way but none the less, it hurt like a kick to the jewels.


	3. Don't wear it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not Beated.  
> If you would like to beta please contact me.

Later that evening, after a dinner of pot noodle and a can of beer, I retired to the bedroom. Tre remained in the living room to watch some movie about a bucket list.

I crept into the small bunk area and glanced over to the sleeping form on Billie Joe. He was tangled up in the sheets and his pillow had somehow ended up down by his feet. I bit my lip to stop myself from giggling at the raven haired man. Gently, I pulled off my jeans and shirt and lay down in my own bunk opposite from his.

For a while I just stared up at the wooden boards of Tre’s bed, my arms behind my head and cell phone resting on my stomach. It was times like these that I couldn’t help but think about my family back in Oakland. I had called Brittney earlier to ask how everything was back home. It was a daily routine of mine and, even though nothing really changed from day to day, I enjoyed hearing about her morning run to the store or about something that a friend of hers had said. Idle chit chat but welcomed all the same.

I knew for a fact that I wasn’t the only one of us who did it. Tre rang home all the time to get a daily dose of gossip and Billie Joe was always calling and texting his wife and kids. Apart from today. I hadn’t seen him near his cell phone at all and, injured, sick or not, he always would make contact with home. Suddenly I felt bad for Adi. She was probably worried sick that she hadn’t heard from her husband. Then again it wasn’t my place to call and explain things; Billie Joe would have to do that himself.

I sighed and rolled over to face the wall. For a while all I could hear was Billie Joe’s soothed breathing and the sound of the television. I was almost off to sleep when I heard the singer stir.

“Mike?” He whispered.

“Yeah?” I tried not to sound angry, but truth be told I was still more than a little peeved at him.

“You okay?”

“Perfectly fine BJ.” I rolled over to look at him and smiled, “How about you?”

“My head’s a little shit.” He groaned, “I musta blacked out.”

“What do ya mean?”

“Last think I remember that Rachael chick was screamin at Ross for something.” He rubbed at his eyes.

“You don’t remember anything else?” I sat up and clicked on the small reading light above my bed. In the glow of the torch I could see how pale and sickly he looked. It was scary.

“No.” He cocked an eyebrow, “Should I? I mean I remember having this weird dream about a chicken giving me her eggs to give to you but that’s it.” Quietly, he chuckled, “Don’t tell me that actually happened?”

I didn’t answer. I was busy weighing up the situation. He had yelled at me, there was no doubt about it, and yet he doesn’t remember a thing of it. I’m no doctor, far from it, but I’m willing to bet my bass that this wasn’t just a knock to the head anymore.

“Mike?”

“Yeah. Sorry BJ. I was just thinking is all.”

I decided not to say anything about it and did my best to change the subject onto something safer. So I asked him about his dream and listened intently while he told it. He didn’t once ‘black out’ but his movements and the way he sat was noticeably different. I had known the man since we were ten, so everything about him and his personality was burned into my memory.

Finally, after a few hours of talking, we decided to catch so sleep. He bid me good night and collapsed into his tangle of sheets. I returned the gesture and curled up under my duvet.

**

The next morning I woke at seven am. Tre had slept in the living room and Billie Joe was moving around the small room. I lay in the warmth of my cot, dozing and thinking about the day ahead. The door to the cabin opened and closed and the next thing I know, a warm body is slipping in beside me.

I gently turn to see who was invading my personal space. Billie Joe smiled hazily at me.

“BJ? What’s up? You cold?” I asked.

“Nothin Mikey. I’m just a little chilly all by my lonesome over there.” He purred.

Billie Joe didn’t talk like that. His eyes were brighter than they usually were, he had on one of my t-shirts and a set of rosary beads. This was very unlike the raven haired man. He snuggled his head into my chest. Just yesterday he had called me a fag for putting my arm around his shoulders and now he basically climbs on top of me?

I didn’t push him off though. Instead I slipped my arms around his petite frame and held him closer. Why I did it? I have no idea but I just felt the need to protect him.

“You’s all nice and warm sweet pea.” He mumbled, “You’s smell nice too.”

“That’s sweat BJ.”

He chuckled, “I likes it.” He lifted his head to gaze at me, his nose was inches from mine, “Call me Twitch. I likes the pet names buy BJ implies wrong things.”

“Oh…um. Okay. Then.”

Twitch? What the fuck? I said nothing though; I didn’t want to ruin the moment. His body was so warm against mine, his skin was so soft and his hair smelt like smoke and shampoo. I could feel his muscles move under my fingers and could feel his heart beat against his ribs.

“You’s okay papa? You’s awfully quiet.”

I was fine. More than fine. Despite my logically mind, I found that I was enjoying this. I never wanted to let him go. I knew what I was feeling was completely wrong but everything about it was just so perfect.

He shifted closer to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His pushed his left leg in-between mine and glanced up into my eyes. Then, out of nowhere, he gently kissed me on the lips. It sent a surge of electricity through my body.

“You’s beautiful Mikey.” He hummed.

I blushed as I felt his erection against my leg and I felt myself also getting hard. I protested with my mind, I begged my hormones to chill out, but no one was listening. He grinned up at me.

“Does daddieo want to have some fun times?” He moved his hand to rest on my erection.

“Um. Twtich, I’m not really sure-“

“Awww. Come on Mikey, you’s all hard.”

“Y-yeah. But. Um, it’s hard to be when you’re grinding against me like that. C-can we give it a miss B- I mean Twitch?” I pleaded.

I didn’t want to do this. He was my oldest friend and he had just suffered a head injury. Fucking him here and now would be immoral of me.

He laid his head back against my chest and sighed.

“Okay papa. We’s just snooze then, yeah?”

I rested my cheek against his head and, despite the lust filled agony I was in, I nodded.

“Yeah Twitch. We can just lay here and sleep."


	4. Faggot.

We lay like that for a good two hours before I gently lifted and set him on his own bunk; I needed to pee like a drunkin race horse. He stirred and mumbled profanities as he curled into a small ball.

When I left the room I found Tre laying spread out on the sofa, one arm behind his head, the other draped over its side and a mug of something sitting on the coffee table. I said ‘good morning’ and he grunted in response.

I Stepped into the small bathroom and emptied my bladder. I checked my reflection only to find my hair was a mess and I looked exhausted; even more so than our damaged Billie Joe. It definitely wasn’t attractive. But I thought ‘The hell with it’ and went to join Tre in the living room.

“How’s Bill?” the drummer asked while I prepared the first coffee of the morning for myself.

“Sleeping. His heads a little painful but apart from that I think he’s fine.” I lied; lied through my own pearly choppers and God it almost killed me to do so.

“Adi called, I said that you should explain, but I made sure and mentioned that Billie wasn’t, you know, dead.”

I lifted my coffee over to the lodge and sat with my legs crossed. Adi’s number was dialled before I had even gotten comfortable.

“Mike!” she answered, “What’s wrong? What’s happened my Billie?”

“Adi, calm your chips. BJ is fine. He just got a little knock on the head and the doctor told him to rest.”

“Oh my God. Is he okay?”

“Yes, yes totally peachy. Trust me. He just needs to rest for a few days is all. He’ll call you once he wakes up but I think it’s better to let him get some rest.”

She reluctantly agreed after I reassured her that Billie Joe wasn’t ass over tits somewhere in ditch. I sighed, hung up the phone and lent back into the couch. Tre passed me a kit kat from his stash; He knew that chocolate was my only other weakness aside from Coffee.

“Thanks dude.” I bit into the delicious biscuit, “Women are neurotic.”

Tre scoffed, “You think she’s neurotic? Man, you pampered him yesterday like he was a bitch in labour.”

“He’s my best friend! What am I meant to do? Leave him to grovel in agony? I would do the same for you.”

Tre didn’t smiled and made a childish ‘awww’ face.

“I love you too man.”

I snatched the remote from the coffee table and switched the channel to something more appropriate than ‘Babestation’. I glanced out the window to see where we had stopped for the night. It turned out to be a rather nice view and I preferred gazing at it to the garbage on the television.

My mind did nothing but mull over our current situation; correction, my current situation. I knew Billie Joe wasn’t well but yet, I said nothing to anyone. Why? Why couldn’t I bring myself to say anything? There was an odd part of him that I hated, the part that called me a fag and shoved me away from him. But the part I had seen this morning, Twitch, made me feel so loved. It awoke feelings in me that I hadn’t felt for a long time. I wanted to go back in there and hold him, cuddle him; Kiss him. But fuck him? No. I couldn’t do that to Billie Joe’s subconscious no matter how much I wanted to.

Apart from Twitch and the nameless other, there was, of course, Billie Joe. Was he trapped inside his own head looking out? Or was he simply asleep while all this was going on? It certainly seemed to be the latter.

Personally, I couldn’t quite decide how I felt about all this.

“You think too much dude.” Tre piped.

“Hmm. What?” I replied.

“You’ve been starin out there for the last 30 minutes.”

I hadn’t realised that it had been that long. My coffee was cold and the rest of my chocolate had gone uneaten. I suddenly had no appetite for either of them.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You need to eat something BJ.”

Billie Joe was seated by the window where I had sat a mere hour ago. He watched intently as we moved along the highway and sipped at a large mug of tea. It was definitely Billie Joe. The way he sat and talked only portrayed this.

“I’m really not hungry Mike.” He replied, “I feel like I have been run over by a fuckin trunk.”

“Maybe it’s something to do with that big old bandage on your head?” Tre joked.

I placed a plate piled high with pancakes, toast and biscuits in the center of the coffee table.

“It’s there if you want it BJ. I’m not gonna treat you like a kid and feed ya.”

We sat talking and discussing garbage for a good hour. The plate was cleared by both me and Tre; Billie Joe didn’t take a bite. He range Adi and undated her on the fact he wasn’t dying and while he did that, Tre and I fled the scene to the small kitchen.

After a while he hung up and, taking his silence as a sign, we went into the living room to join him.

“Fuck sake.” He swore, “Why the hell are we on a fuckin bus anyway? Ain’t there no motel rooms?”

It was so out of nowhere that Tre and I could do nothing but stare blankly at the small man. I knew from the way that he spoke and sat that it wasn’t our Billie. He chewed his lip furiously, blood dribbling from the wound he had created. His glare was icy and maniacal.

“Who the fuck are you!?”He snapped and shot to his feet, “Why the hell am I on this fricken bus?!”

“Billie Joe, it us. Tre and Mike. Y’know?” Tre pleaded.

The drummer was scared. His voice was shaking, he glanced from me to Billie and moved closer to my body.

“I’m calling the cops!” the singer shouted.

“What? No! Billie Joe, we aren’t going to hurt –“

“Billie Joe? Who the fuck? You calling me a woman?” he spat it out as if he had just ingested poison, “ You,” He pointed at me, “ Fag! Calling me a woman?! Hummh. You’re one to talk!”

I blushed. From anger or embarrassment? I couldn’t tell.

“What does he mean? Mike? He’s fuckin delusional!” Tre took hold of my arm like a small child.

“Fuck you both!”

The small man had gotten my length before I had snapped out of my trance. I felt his fist smash hard into my jaw, I fell backwards and landed on my ass. Tre was still standing, having let go of my arm before I plummeted. ‘Billie’ stood above me, watching as I gripped hold of my throbbing cheek. His charmingly crooked teeth were bore in a sharp chilling grin.

“What the fuck are you doing? BJ?” Tre was knelling beside me and glaring up at my attacker.

“Fucking homo deserved it.”

“I’m not gay you fucking jerk off!” I was on my feet in seconds, my arms gripping the collar of Billie’s shirt and my face inches from him, “This isn’t you Billie!”

“No.” he chuckled, “I’m Fink. About fucking time that other faggot cleared off.”

“Get out of him!” I snarled, shaking him slightly.

“Oh you’d just love that, wouldn’t you? So you can fuck him senseless into the mattress.”

“We aren’t like that!”

He laughed, deep and mocking, before being his mouth to my ear.

“I know you get hard just looking at him. You wanna move to his rhythm and bury yourself balls deep into his sweet ass. You wanna hear him scream your name, see him tangled in the sheets below you covered in a sheet of cum and sweat.”

I threw him from me. He landed with a crash to the floor and gripped hold of his skull.

“Jesus! Mike. What the fuck are you doing man?” he asked.

It was Billie again. I could tell from the pleading look in his soft green eyes; even the way he struggled to his feet. But I was too angry to care.

Tre put a hand on my shoulder.

“You say nothing.” I whispered harshly to the drummer, “Don’t breathe a word. We’ll discuss this later.”

Tre agreed.

“I’m going to bed.” I snarled directly at Billie Joe.

He watched me, completely confused and, from what I can guess, hurt, as I stormed from the room and into the small bunk area.  
Billie was pleading with Tre in the living room but he cleverly avoided the subject. I switched on the radio, lay back on my bunk and spent the rest of the evening with my own thoughts.


	5. Somewhere inbetween.

We had finally come to stop at a fancy hotel. Billie Joe, Tre, the Jason’s, the roadies and I all acquired room numbers and took great pleasure in going straight to said rooms. The following evening we had a gig and I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t fretting over Billie Joe’s current condition.

He hadn’t spoken about what had happened; in fact he hadn’t spoken to me at all. Tre was our only means of communication and, Christ bless him, the man was doing his best to keep us both claim. I was still pissed that Billie Joe or Fink or who-ever-the-fuck had said those things to me and I am guessing he is still pissed that he woke up with his ass hitting the floor.

The days had gone when we had to share a room but we were all in the same corridor. Tre took the room between mine and Billie’s. He kind of reminded me of a mothering hen trying to keep her fighting chicks apart. But we weren’t fighting as such; at least Billie Joe and I weren’t.

“Let’s get a drink!” Tre sang.

We had met out in the hallway again after leaving our bags in the rooms. Billie joe pursed his lips in thought. I caught him gazing in my direction but he looked away swiftly and blushed. That confused me.

“Yeah sure.” The singer mumbled.

“Great!”Tre slung an arm round each of our shoulders and pulled us in the bar’s general direction.

He had us sit in a booth near the back corner so he could check out some hot young ass residing at the bar itself. Billie and I sat opposite each other, each staring into our own drinks. It was Tre who got us both talking. He, being the little ray of sunshine that he was, melted the tension between us and somehow managed to make us forget about the afternoon’s unpleasantness.

What really can I say? He had a gift.

The two men got into a tough debate about some sort of television show and I was happy to let them banter on. It was as if nothing at all had ever happened to Billie Joe; the bandage was the only evidence of his injury. But how long would it last? How long until things fucked up?

I looked up and found myself staring at a lonely Billie Joe.

“Where’d he go?” I asked.

“To get himself some action.” Billie Joe smiled awkwardly, “So it’s just us.”

Moments passed before we began to engage in some sort o conversation. Sadly, it wasn’t one I had hoped for.

“What happened earlier Mike?” He asked.

“You went bat shit on me.” my voice was low and clam.

“I went bat shit on you?” he scoffed, “I fell asleep and wake up to being thrown around the fuckin’ room by you!”

“That’s not how it was BJ! You’re little head injury isn’t so fuckin little.”

“You callin’ me crazy?!”

“No.” I sighed, “BJ, I don’t know what’s wrong. But…those times when you are asleep – you aren’t. You’re someone else; two people actually.”

Billie Joe gazed down into his drink mournfully. He chewed at the edge of his lip and furrowed his brow.  
“Billie Joe?”

His head snapped up and his eyes met mine.

“You’re kidding. Right? I mean you’re messin with me? This is one of those tour jokes we always play on each other? Like when I cut your hair?”

“No.” I shook my head sombrely and watched as his expression changed from that of confusion to utter angst.

He was my best friend and he knew I would never lie to him to this extent. A joke like this is just too intense. But yet, behind those emerald eyes, I could still see the cogs of his mind working hard.

“I’m not playing Billie Joe.” He gulped at the use of his full christian name, “You need to go to a doctor and get this ….problem seen about. Before something fucked up happens.”

“Something fucked up? Am I like some sort of Hulk or something?”

“You’re a violent terror one moment and a helpless pretty boy the next. What if that happens on stage BJ?! Think about it.”

To my surprise he snorted a laugh.

“Pretty boy? Sounds like me alright –“

“This isn’t a fuckin’ joke Billie Joe!” I slammed my fist on the table earning myself suspicious looks from the bar tender and a few other tenants.

I lowered my head and stared directly at my friend.

“Tre saw it too. And it’s only a matter of time before you take a turn in front of someone else. Now I know you’re not crazy, so does Tre and the Jason’s. But other people might not be so cool about it.”

“What do you suppose we do Mike? Put me in a funny farm? Send me to a shrink?”

“Fuck if I know BJ.” I growled, “But we need to do something pronto.”

Billie Joe stirred his drink with his pointer finger and watched as the liquid swirled in the glass. His expression was grave, a frown pinched his pink lips downwards and, for the first time, the man was showing his age of thirty and seven years. Watching a friend in this state of pain often makes you feel the same way; and by God I felt like a right dick.

After a few moments he got up from the table and, without saying a word, left the bar.


	6. I want you hear with me.

I joined Tre at the bar and stayed for three more drinks before I decided to check on the singer. It wasn’t late, only about ten thirty, but the hotel was quiet throughout; even the bar had been reasonably quiet. It was so peaceful that I decided to take the stairs rather than the elevator. I was almost run over by a couple of excited kids on the second floor and I stopped to talk to a hotel maid who happened to want an autograph. By the time I had actually reached the fourth floor it must have been almost eleven.

I expected Billie Joe to be asleep but I could hear drones of the radio from within the room. I knocked gently, waited, but received no answer. I pondered over my options for a moment before I gently decided to try the handle. To my surprise it obliged and I was able to softly open the door. Inside the room was dark, the clock radio glowed from where it sat on the locker and on the bed was a Billie Joe shaped lump.  
“BJ?” I whispered into the darkness.

A simple grunt was all I received in return. He was upset, that much I could tell, so I closed the door behind me and crossed the room to where he lay in a small, fragile ball.

“Billie Joe are you okay?”

I laid my hand on his shoulder. The body shrunk away from my harmless touch.

“He don’t wanna talk to ya Mikey.” The voice was small and broken with the obvious tension of tears.

I knew at once that it was the kinder of Billie Joe’s two inhabitants.

“Twitch. Why doesn’t BJ want to talk?”

“He ain’t buyin what you’re sellin Micheal. He ain’t no fan of this jibber jabber.”

His jazzy speech was hard to get my head around but I quickly deciphered it in my mind. Billie Joe did believe me but he wasn’t ready to act on it. He would rather hide behind his masks and let the problem sort it’s self out. I gridded my teeth; It was so like Billie Joe. But this time the problem wasn’t going to magically disappear, he needed to address it ASAP, not shy away in a corner and cry.

“He can’t do that.” I replied calmly, “This isn’t going to untangle it’s self.”

The body rolled over onto its back. His face was illuminated by the blue of the clock radio and I could just about make out the glistening of tears on his cheeks. This personality was tragically fragile; so much so I wanted to hold and comfort him as if he were my own. He let out a sniff and a muffled whimper which melted my heart.

“He’s bein a real sour cherry bout this commotion.”

“Yeah, well, that’s BJ for you.” I forced a smile, “If Billie’s the one upset, why are you crying?”

“I’m part o’ Billie boy. I’m his softer world.” He sighed, “I ain’t no collage professor; I can’t explain it like a textbook.”

“That’s okay. I suppose the doctor could do that.”

“Doctor? You’re taken me to a white coat?”

“This has to get sorted.”

He didn’t reply. Slowly he turned his head to the side and gazed at the wall. I lay next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders; the fingers of my left hand played with the bunged t-shirt on his torso. His body was so warm but yet he was shivering. It took me a while to realize that, in fact, he was trying to hide his sobs.

“Twitch, don’t cry buddy.”

It only made him cry harder. I pulled him closer to me and he voluntarily laid his head on my chest. His legs entangled with mine, his right arm wrapped around my torso and his hand gripped the fabric of my shirt. He was biting on the knuckles of his other fist.

I ran my fingers through his thick raven hair and soothingly rubbed the skin of his arm. He had his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth clamped down on skin and his whole body was shaking from his attempts to stop himself bawling. It hurt to watch him struggled so much just to seem strong.

“I – I’m sorry Mikey.” He whimpered.

“Why?”

“For wakin up. Billie boy wouldn’t be all jizzed if I hadn’t of gotten out of bed. I should a stayed snuggled up.”

“Don’t say that Twitch. It’s not you I hate. It’s that other fucker.” I replied.

“Fink doesn’t like you much; he punched your heavenly face.”

“You saw that huh?”

“Yeahs. I was screamin my lil’ o’ lungs out for him to stop but the critter wasn’ barginin’”

“It’s okay. You tried.”

I felt him lean up on his elbow, his body shifted further up the bed and soon I was gazing into the shadowed green of his eyes. I searched the emeralds for any prediction of his plan. He leaned in and gently brushed his lips to mine. I could taste the smoke from his last cigarette on his lips and sighing breath. His tongue slid gently in to meet mine and I let his tongue explore every part of my mouth. The kiss grew passionate, almost forceful. I felt him move his small body up onto my waist. He straddled me, one leg on either side and both his hands unbuttoning my shirt. I held his hips and pushed all reason from my mind. The lust I felt at that moment was much too great.

I gently pulled back from the kiss and took his face in my hands.

“Wait. What about BJ?” I breathed.

“Billie Boy wants this.” Was all I got in reply.

He leaned in once again and restarted our hungry kiss. My shirt was lying open and he was fumbling with my pants now. I was hard, so god – damned hard I could cry. He was teasing me with his fingers; Ghosting them down my stomach and tickling the flesh.

“T-Twitch just fucking get on with it!” I moaned into the kiss.

He grinned down at me, “Yous don’t like my teasin sugar plum?”

“I’m harder than a fucking rock! This is torture.”

He lowered his mouth to my ear and breathed. It sent a shiver right down my spine.

“You want to fuck me sugarplum? Harder than that wifey of yours? Til I scream you good name and take your warm juices?”

His words made me gasp with a surge of instant pleasure. He chuckled, shuffled to the edge of the bed and dropped his pants to the floor. His under fell away to reveal his swollen cock; a cock I so desperately longed to stroke. He stood motionless for a moment, his head to cocked to the side and his cheeks pinking slightly but he soon sported a small smile and moved onto the bed once again.

My pants were down to my ankles, my briefs with them, and I lay exposed and naked to my best friend. Yet, I felt not an ounce of embarrassment. He kissed my chest, trailing his lips down my stomach as he carefully lowered himself on to my aching member.

A whimper escaped his lips and he bit his own lip as I moved deeper into his tight hole. His moans and gasps only turned me on further and I had to grip the bed sheets to stop myself bucking upwards. I was so scared of hurting the smaller man.

I had never done this with any other man before, although I had often imagined myself with Billie in this situation. Still, I was rather surprised with how easily this flowed; how we seemed to know just want to do.  
He sat up; his back arched, and moaned deeply. Finally I bucked my hips upwards and he made that wonderful sound again. Over and over I seemed to hit that spot; the spot that made him bite his lips and cry out.

Our rhythm became faster, our skin sleeked in sweat; our lust was building and I could feel myself close to the edge.

“I-I’m gonna cum.” I whined.

“Fuck, I’m gonna join ya.” He was breathless and barely able to get his words out.

The singer shuttered and I gave one finally hard thrust before he released his seed, hot and sticky, over my stomach. I felt the warm passion in my gut, I bit my lip and moaned deep in my throat as I came inside the smaller man. He fell off me, exhausted from the intense session. I gasped and gulped for my breath, my fingers still gripping the sheets and my skin slicken in sweat. Beside me, Twitch giggled and rolled onto his side. His shirt was caked with cum and sweat and I realised my stomach was uncomfortably gummy. I smiled at the large grin on the singers face.

“You okay Mike?”

I cocked an eyebrow at the strange change in tone. It wasn’t Twitches jazzy slang anymore.

“B-Biliie Joe?” I stammered.

“Yeah.”

I gulped.

“When….when—“

“When I took my pants off.” He chuckled, “I don’t know who the hell he is, but I like that other personality.”  
He leaned over to me and brushed his lips to mine gently.

“You don’t mind what we…y’know, just did?”

“No way Mikey. I wanted you to fuck me like that for longer than I can fucking tell. God, I feel so alive.”

“But – But what about our families?”

“No one needs to know Mike. This head injury and whatever the hell has come with it seems like nothing now. I’m not scared about it anymore. I think admitting that I love you is the hardest thing and I’ve done that; so what can’t I do?”

I gazed at him. My eyes were blurred over with tears.

“You love me?” I squeaked.

“I love you more than the fucking air I breathe.”

I smiled. No, I almost cried. I was so fucking pleased at his words I could have died there and been eternally grateful to the big man. His body snuggled up against mine and I didn’t shrink away or hesitate. I slung an arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Stay with me tonight.” He whispered into my chest.

I kissed his forehead and stroked back his matted hair.

“I’ll keep you warm.”


	7. Dark side of night.

The next morning I snuck back into my own room to get cleaned up and dressed for the day ahead. I neglected to shave, because Billie had kindly admitted how he likes my stubble, and I pulled on the first thing that came to hand. My neck was covered in little fresh teeth marks from our morning fondle and on my shoulder blade was a dark love bite. I cringed.

The marks were dismissed within moments when I noticed the time. I roughly laced my dress shoes and basically leapt from the room in utter excitement. Billie was waiting in the hallway for me, his hair a mass of black fuzz and clad in his usual attire of black jeans, creepers and a smart shirt. On his nose were aviators, which were actually mine. He smiled at me and wrapped his arms gently around my waste. We kissed gingerly, very aware of our surroundings, and left promptly for the stadium.

As much as I wanted to take Billie to the hospital that day we had a gig later that evening and sound checks needed to be made in the arena. I tried to reassure myself, and Billie, that everything would work out okay but the amount of stress and anxiety that the singer was experiencing could do nothing but harm.  
We joined Tre and some of the crew at the arena’s catering hall for something to eat and then we got straight into setting up. Billie Joe was doing a good job of acting normal; he joked around with the techs and made snide remarks to me and Tre. He paraded around wearing silver tinsel and my pink, fluffy, cat ears and although it made every one laugh, it seemed almost too forced to me.

I kept my mouth shut though, exchanging glances with him every so often and fiddling with the wires of my microphone. Tre soon approached me and pulled me gently behind the stage out of view.

“Is your mic off?” he asked.

I made a quick check and nodded.

“What’s up with Billie?” the drummer asked.

“You noticed it too huh?”

“He’s paranoid, man, it’s hard not to notice.” He chewed his lip, “What happened last night?”

I stiffened at his words and I was sure I was blushing.

“Um…what? Er. What do you mean?”

“About the head injury thing! Didn’t you discuss it with him?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t amused. But he knows about it.”

Tre gazed at the tops of his shoes and pursed his lips in thought.

“Christ.” I mumbled.

“Some good he is. Unless we can get him to sing for us tonight.” Tre chuckled.

“Billie can still perform.”

“Are you sure about that? What if he goes all stiff during our set?”

I wanted to make a smart remark about how I really wanted to see Billie ‘stiff’ again but I decided against it. I chewed on my bottom lip and stroked the stubble on my chin as I thought about our options. Really, in all truth, we had none. Except cancel and that was not our style. We haven’t’ canceled a tour since the Dookie era.

“We can’t cancel – “

“Cancel what?”

Tre and I glanced to the edge of the drum riser where Billie Joe stood. He had his blonde guitar hanging down his back and a pair of drumsticks in his hands. Tre’s drumsticks to be exact (I only know because of the cartoon drawings littering their wood.).

“We were just talking about, y’know, your little….um…problem.” I really didn’t know how to address the issue and I stammered on like this for a few moments before Tre decided to rescue me with his inappropriate bluntness.

“We’re worried that you might go ape shit on stage because of your bump to the head.”

Billie moved his mouth in the shape of an unheard ‘oh’ and pursed his lips in thought.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, “I’m kinda worried about that too.”

“We noticed.” Tre sighed.

“But we can’t cancel!” Billie Joe whined, “The fans! What about the fans!”

“We’ll go on. If anything happens we will roll with it, take it as it comes. Y’know?” I said; taking a stand and being the alpha dog as usual.

The two men nodded in silent but reluctant agreement and we dispersed to the catering hall once again. More coffee was desperately needed and a fucking huge box of sprinkle covered doughnuts.

***********

Billie Joe paced the green room. He twirled his fingers around his tie, his whole body was shaking and he chewed on his lip nervously. Never before had I ever seen him so worked up about a show. Back in the day he would have been nervous, sure, but never like this. I was basically watching a deer in headlights. Yet I sat where I was, on the leather couch with my feet resting on the futon and my bass guitar in my arms.

Tre was goofing around in the other room with the Jason’s and some of the stage crew. The support act was due to go on in five minutes and the excitement was building for everyone. Everyone but Billie Joe.

I took my eyes from him for one moment to read a text message from my daughter and when I looked back up he was leaning over the sink. He began to retch. I had my bass from my lap in mere seconds; I shot across the room and laced my arm around his waist. I held his hair back with my hand and occasionally I gently smoothed his back.

“BJ you’re as white as a fucking Irish sheep.” I joked.

He giggled pathetically before immediately emptying more from his guts. I sighed and reached for a towel.

“You can’t go on like this.” I passed him the towel.

“I – I can. I’m just nervous.” He wiped his mouth and dropped the towel into the washing bin.

“Come on. Sit with me and we’ll just chill okay? You’ll make yourself high as a kite walking in circles like that.”

I moved my bass to its stand and positioned myself back in my usual spot. Billie Joe crawled up beside me. He lifted my arm to sling it around his own shoulders, pulled his feet up onto the leather and cradled his head on my chest. I buried my nose in his hair; evidently it smelt of vomit so I withdrew.

“You gotta calm down BJ.” I whispered.

“I know. Fucking promise me it will be okay tonight Mike.”

“I can’t.”

He whined and it broke my heart.

“The first chance we get we’ll go straight to the nearest doctor and get this figured out.” He began to protest but I cut him off with a tap to the skull, “Stop it! You know you have to go if you want this to go away. Take it like a man BJ!”

He chuckled, “Oh I took it like a man last night all right.”

I blushed.

“You loved it slut.”

“Yeah.” He reached up and planted a soft kiss to my lips. Sadly I almost gagged at their taste.

“BJ! You taste like shit!” I joked.

He frowned and lowered his head back to my chest.

“Its vomit actually but thanks all the same.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, 15 to be exact, and just listened to the sound of the distant crowd cheering and to our ever loved support bouncing around the stage. Our own breathing was drowned out by the various noises of the building, by the nose of the sink and the running water in the other rooms. Even our roadies and our beloved band members could be heard from the room down the hall.  
I smiled as the small man sighed; it sounded like a child drifting to sleep.

“Billie Joe?” I asked.

“Hmm mm.” he mumbled.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen you. You’re safe with me.”

“I know.” He whispered, “But you can’t save me from myself Mikey. No one can.”

The sad thing is he was right.

***********

I shot after Billie as a wave of applause filled the stadium. Tre bounded up onto the drum riser, Billie Joe brought his guitar to his front and I took up my position at my own mic. We started straight into ‘21st century breakdown’ and mid way through he introduced not only himself but us too.

The atmosphere was amazing, as always. The fans were like a pack of bitches in heat, they screamed and shouted and bounced on the floors. Billie Joe seemed to have completely forgotten his bout of anxiety and dashed around the stage like the god he was. I briefly looked behind me to see Tre grinning widely. He winked at me and mouthed ‘He’s doing well.’ Either that or ‘Go to hell’, but I am almost certain it was the former.

It was extremely well, the adrenaline was building in my veins and I was lost in the noise. We were half way through the set, Billie Joe had his red boa and police hat on, Tre had his bra on and I had my pink cat ears on my head and the glasses placed on my nose. King for a day, of course, was always the highlight for me. Dressing up in those idiotic getups and watching the group sing the lyrics really was the most amazing and childish feeling; like a dream.

It was short lived. There was a sudden screeching as Billie Joe’s mic fell to the ground. He stop still, his legs spread wide, his expression one of utter shock and his hands, I could see, were shaking. I stopped playing, as did Tre. The singers head snapped round to me and I saw a change in his eyes. My heart sank; It wasn’t Twitch. The reverend, as he had called himself, wouldn’t cause any trouble, if anything he would search himself for the lyrics and get on with it; He just seemed like the type. But what about Fink?

‘Billie Joe’ lifted his guitar over his shoulder and let it fall with a twang to the stage floor. He shakily hurried by me into the back stage area. The crowd had began to mutter to each other, from some of the closer fans I could hear them worried rather than angry; which, I guess, was a good thing.

“I’m sorry guys.” Tre was the one to speak first, he held his own mic close to his mouth and gazed from one side of the hall to the other, “BJ hasn’t been feeling too hot all day. We’ll send the support back on and then we’ll arrange for you guys to get your money back or something.”

“We’ll keep you guys informed about the ticket situation.” It was all I could think to say before following after Billie Joe. Tre and the Jasons dashed after me.

We met the support on the way back; they were prepped and ready to go on stage to calm the crowd down. The Jasons took the liberty of speaking to the hall manager, along with some of the roadies, while Tre and I went to our green room.


	8. Sprinkle of maniacal.

We stood listening to the stream of profanities and the sound of smashing objects in the safety of the hallway. Tre wrung his tie in his fingers while I kept running my hands through my hair.

“We have to go in.” He said.

I nodded, “You first man.”

Tre closed his eyes tight and forced out a deep sigh. Opening them again, he took hold of the door handle and pushed open the wood. Apart from the crash of the door as it hit the wall, silence engulfed the room. I followed after him and stood still as he shut the door tight.

The room had been turned to shit. Glass and shards of past instruments littered the floor. The couch was ripped open on one side and the stuffing was pulled from its depths. Spots of blood trailed from one end of the room to the other and then again in small little drips. For such a small man, he could reek some havoc when in a unconscious rage.

Said man was standing over the sink, a pair of scissors in one hand and a switchblade in the other. He glared at himself in the mirror, his nose screwed up and his teeth clenched as he cut at the hair on his scalp. He sawed at some matted strands with the switchblade and cut large clumps in an uneven mess. His fingers and the palms of his hands were the source of the bleeding and that, accompanied by the mass of hair in the sink, made a gruesome mixture.

I jolted forward and took hold of the singer’s wrist. His head snapped round; his eyes were fixed on mine. I’ll never forget the hatred and pure maniacal look that they possessed. I would even go as far to say that he was  _ugly._

He tore his wrist from me and took a step back.

“Who the fuck do you think you are faggot!?” He snapped in a deep, hoarse voice very unlike his own.

“Put the sharp things away BJ.” I replied.

He looked from one instrument to the other and then grinned at me. A twinge of fear gripped my throat.

“What?” He whispered, “These?”

He shot forward and wedged the switchblade in to my left bicep. I fell back in utter agony, a flash of white hot pain shooting through, not just my arm, but my entire body. Tre stepped over me to push the smaller man away, he had his hands gripped down in front of him and the scissors were thrown into the sink. The knife, I assumed, was still in my arm. I gazed at the source of pain and sure enough the handle of the blade was protruding from my muscle.

Above me, Tre had Billie Joe wrestled to the couch. I heard Billie Joe’s fist connect with Tre’s face and before I knew it the drummer had him knocked out cold.

“Fucking cunt socked me!” He wailed as he held the fabric of his tie to his nose, “I’m going to get the paramedics. Are you okay to lay there til I come back?”

I nodded a little too forcefully. Typical Tre. Not at all panicked about the knife producing from one of his best friend’s arms or by the questions that this whole mess would raise.

I let my head rest back on the floor. I wasn’t feeling the full extent of the injury, the pain was nothing but a dull throb and I was unaffected by the amount blood I was seeing. The shock had full control over my body and it seemed to switch my pain threshold onto high.

Billie, I now saw, had his head hanging over the edge of the couches side, his arm also hung down and there was blood oozing from a few cuts in his forehead and on his hands. I was more concerned with his blood loss than my own. His face was softer than the snarling beast we had arrived to but it still worried me to think that he still was in there somewhere.

I was thrown off my train of thought by the vibration of footsteps on the wood below me. Tre, accompanied by a first aid team, flocked into the room and I found myself being fussed over by two young paramedics.

“Sir can you sit up?”

“Sir can you hear me?”

Sir, sir , sir ; It was all I heard . The rest of their conversations was jumbled and faded by the sudden ringing in my ears. My vision was blurring and the two kids were becoming more distant.

“He’s lost a lot of blood…”

“Just get him onto the stretcher…”

“Sir, sir; stay with us…”

I wanted to talk back to them, I wanted to tell them I was fine and ask them how Billie Joe was but no matter how much I willed myself to do so; I failed. I concentrated on the small blots of lights that were twinkling behind my eyelids. I listened to the buzzing and thumping; all the while watching the swirling and dancing lights. They moved like fairies; so graceful and elegant.

“Is he still breathing?”

“This amount of shock…”

“The other ones in a bad way…”

Billie Joe! I tried to call his name but I couldn’t.

“Get them both to ambulance now!”

I hadn’t any time to think about what trouble we were both in. I felt myself slipping further and further from reality. Until I finally gave in; I followed the fairies into the darkness.


	9. The nurses ain't hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We leave Mike's Prov for a bit to check on BJ and Tre. May be a regular thing, may not. Who knows?

Somehow, I knew this wasn’t dying. Dying would entail more peace, more bright lights and perhaps a sense of nirvana; this was nothing like that. All I can remember is the burning agony, not just in my left arm, but all through my body. Voices spoke frantically above me but their speech was remote and accompanied by the dense ringing in my ears.

I opened my eyes to an intense, white light. My vision was hazed and my eye lids felt heavy. A nurse was at my side, reaching up to a bag full of clear liquid and to the blood pack hanging beside it. She looked down at me and smiled.

Despite my perplexity and pain I weakly grinned back. She moved down to fiddle with the drip shoved into the crook of my elbow, I could feel a faint nip as the needle moved beneath my skin and then the faint trickle o warm liquid running down my fore arm. The young woman hummed softly to herself as she cleaned up the mess.

“Where’s Billie Joe?” I asked her. My voice sounded foreign; it was so rough and quiet.

“I’m sorry? Who?” She questioned, still that smile upon her face.

“I – I was brought in with him.”

She sighed gravely and for a moment I thought the worst.

“I only work here sir; I barely can remember faces never mind names.”

I was glad her expression was one of confusion rather than grief and I also found that I was rather glad that she hadn’t recognized us.

She apologized to me again and then shuffled from the room. However I was not left alone for long. Tre edged into the room, a paper cub in one hand and a magazine in the other.

“Hey buddy.” He said.

He had two butterfly strips across the bridge of his nose and one on his left cheek.

“Did Billie do that?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He sat down by my bed and handed the cup to me. In it was white coffee with, if I was correct, a hint of cinnamon, “I asked if you were allowed it and you are so…I bought you one. its decaf but I thought you might like one any way.”

I was more than a little pleased that the drummer had brought me this offering. I made to move and give him a brotherly hug but moving seemed to wake up the agony in my left shoulder and so I simply hissed and settled back into my pillows.

“How’s BJ?”

“He’s alright. You definitely came off worse. He’s got a bit of a black eye and a few cuts; but that’s it.”

“They aren’t keeping him are they?”

“Nah, no reason to. As far as they know Billie was just a little delusional and paranoid. They had a doctor come in and see him and we both just lied out our asses. I don’t think any of us want Billie admitted for this and as long as you don’t press charges the police won’t get involved.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. They have no reason to.” Tre sighed, “He’s feeling pretty bad though. He work up, I explained what happened and, God, man he just started bawlin.”

“Shit.” I took a sip of the coffee, my eyes were staring dead ahead at the white of the sheets and my mind lay primarily on Billie Joe, “What about the crew?”

“Billie Joe felt ill, we got back and found him chucking his guts up in the sink and he was delusional. Basically what we told the doctor. They may not believe us but it’s better to hold them off than tell them the truth. They know what BJ is like when he’s in a bad mood, so ill and delusional should be no problem for them to get their heads around.”

I nodded and continued to sip at my coffee. I knew, as well as Tre, that it was only a matter of time until the crew had to be told what the hell was going on.

“Tre, when we get to the next town, or whatever, I am taking him straight to the hospital to get this shit sorted out. Or at least get him on some sort of medication for it.”

“Yeah, and if he don’t go, I’ll fuckin drag him.” He took the empty cup from my shaking hand, “You outta get some rest. I think they’ll let you out tomorrow depending on how your vitals are.”

I lay back and started at the white of the ceiling only to discover it wasn’t white at all; but crème.

“I doubt I’ll sleep any, man.”

He threw the magazine onto my stomach. I picked it up and read the title. Ehrfürchtig Gitarre.

“It’s German?” I questioned.

“Hey, at least you won’t be bored.”

************************

Billie was seated in the back of the tour bus in an over sized hooded top and a winter hat. He chewed on his finger nails and watched out the window at the passing cars or at the arriving ambulances. It was dark; his face was illuminated only by the flashing lights out side and by the green emergency light above the door.

Tears coursed down his cheeks, his lower lip shook with the effort to conceal his cries and his body was shaking. What had he done? More over; why? How could he lose control like that in front of millions of people, only to go out back and stab his best friend? He wasn’t worried about his chucks of missing hair, he was upset but not worried, but at the moment he feared more for Mike.

Something burned inside his skull; like the beginning of a migraine or worse. His breath shook in time with that of his body and he bit down hard on his lip. There was a voice. It was harsh and violent, it hissed like a snake and it growled in the break between it’s words.

The man didn’t want to listen to the cruel whispers, he didn’t want to hear the insults and the name callings; he had heard it too often lately. Even before the attack he had been hearing it talking to him in the dark.

He wondered, in an attempted to ignore the voice, where the kinder of the two was. He spoke so nicely, with jazzy undertones and he reminded Billie Joe of himself as a child; minus the sexual innuendos. He had no idea who he was but he much preferred him to the demon.

The voice was coming through louder than before. Billie brought his knees up to his chin and grasped his hands over his head. He knew he looked like an escaped mental patient; but he didn’t much care. What else was he to do? He gently beat the sides of his skull with the heels of his palms and clenched his teeth together.

“Stop it.” He whispered, “Fucker. Get out of my head.”

It laughed and continued to wreak havoc on Billie’s mental state. The singer began to cry harder, his breath coming in sobs and his body trembling from head to foot. He heard the door of the bus opening and closing, then the urgent shuffling of feet.

Someone took him into their arms and held him tight against their chest. He only realized it was the beloved drummer when he heard the man start to speak.

“Come on buddy, calm down. It’s okay.”

And Billie Joe, despite his embarrassment at being caught like this, cried. He gripped onto the mans shirt and allowed himself to weep. Tre rubbed his back, his gentle movements making the older man feel safe and warm; but it couldn’t erase what he had done to his best friend.

“M-Mike must hate me.” he sobbed.

“No man, no way. He’s worried about you; we all are. But you gotta stay strong for us Billie Joe and we’ll help you get through this.”

“I gotta get this fixed.”

“Yeah, you will BJ. But for that to happen you have to take it easy and rest up.” The drummer sighed, “I hate to say it, but we have to go back home.”

Billie looked up at Tre and frowned.

“We can’t do that.”

“We have to BJ, your health is priority and I am sure that the fans will understand.”

The singer bit his lip. There really was no other option but to bale. Tre laid his chin upon the top of the Billie’s head and closed his eyes.

“What’s it gonna be?” he whispered.

Billie sighed.

“You can tell the crew to pull out of the gig. Contact Schneider and let him know we’re pulling out. I don’t think I’ll be facing anyone for a while so, can leave it up to you?”

Tre smiled weakly at the small man.

“Course Dude, you can count on me.”


	10. Misstress- I confess.

I wasn’t permitted to leave the hospital until late next day. Tre came to pick me up at the hospital and also as an extra pair of ears when it came to the details about my after care. He gently guided me through the halls with his arm wrapped around my shoulders. After being doped up on painkillers for so long I found it hard to get my footing right and stumbled on several occasions.

“Dude, I think the ground is moving.” I joked as I slipped into the passenger seat of the hired car.

“It’ll feel like that for a while. You heard what the doc said.”

I nodded. We started to move on down the highway towards our hotel. Tre had a local radio station playing, the presenter spoke in rapid German and it made my head spin to try and pin point her words; my high school languages was proving worthless. I heard our name mentioned briefly and looked to Tre. There was a frown upon the man’s face.

“What?” I asked, “What did she say?”

“I don’t speak German –“

“Maybe not but you know something.”

“It was mostly likely about the cancellation of the tour.”

I sat still. I was shocked to say the least that Billie Joe had let this go ahead, I knew how bull headed he could be and how much he loved to be on the road. He must have been devastated when he realised that there was nothing left to do.

As much as I wanted to see my best friend and comfort him in what I knew must be a pretty morbid time, I also was nervous. What if he didn’t want to see me?

“I-is Billie okay?”

Tre glanced briefly at me and then back to the road.

“He’s just really bummed.” The man chuckled, “He feels so guilty right now that you’ll be getting pampered even before you set foot through the lobby door. If I were you, I’d milk it for all I could get.”

The radio was the only sound for the rest of the journey. Tre parked near the entrance of the hotel and supported me as we staggered in through the door way. Billie Joe was sitting in the lobby with one of my bandanas a top his head. I frowned as I remembered the chunks of missing hair from his scalp. He jumped up from the chair and staggered towards us. His lip was split and he had new stitches over his left eyebrow.

“Hey Mikey.” He said rather hesitantly, “H-how you feeling?”

I smiled at him, trying to ease his fear.

“Better for seeing you BJ.”

The singer blushed. Tre, now accompanied by Billie Joe, helped me back to my room. The sheets on the bed had been changed, my bass was propped against the far wall and on the table was a tray with coffee, mugs and various biscuits.

“Gee this is real nice guys.” I exclaimed as I lowered myself into the sofa.

Tre sat next to me while Billie Joe brought me over a mug of piping coffee. He then brought over his own and Tre’s and set the biscuits on the coffee table.

“Why is my bass out of the bus?”

“I – I thought you might want to …play it.” Billie joe’s voice trailed off as he caught sight of my bandaged arm.

“It’s okay BJ. I’ll be playing it again before you know it.”

Billie joe forced a smile but he didn’t seem convinced. He barely touched his coffee and the Tre and I were often left to talk between ourselves. Billie Joe certainly wasn’t good company, not like he usually was.

The afternoon wondered into evening. Billie Joe was with his feet up on his seat, his coffee still sitting on the table and his eyes glued intently to the television. Tre told me that he would see me tomorrow; apparently he had ‘business’ to take care of. The drummer swiftly left me with Billie Joe.

“Billie?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay.”

The man hesitated before meekly nodding his head. Somehow I didn’t believe him.

“I should go.” He said.

“No. No please BJ. S-stay with me tonight.”

“Why? So…So I can hurt you again?”

He looked to me. His emerald eyes brimming with unshed tears. I motioned for him to sit by me but he refused.

“I don’t want to hurt you—“

“Christ BJ! You’re not! It wasn’t you in that back room, it was…him. Stop blaming yourself.”

He cautiously came and sat next to me but flinched when I moved closer.

“BJ. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” I cooed.

“Maybe you can’t; but I can.”

“No. Stop it. Don’t do this to yourself.” I took hold of his hand and squeezed, “Please.”

He fought against my touch for only a second before he could do nothing more than embrace it. Tears slid down his cheeks and his lower lip quivered.

“Please don’t cry BJ.”

“Why not? Why shouldn’t I? I’m the one who has to live with this in my head! I can’t even trust myself anymore! I- I could have ruined everything for the band and I could have killed you! Mike, what would I have done if you had died?!” He sobbed uncontrollably now. His body shook and he could barely get his words out.

I used my good arm to pull him closer and he obliged without protest. His head lay against my chest, careful to avoid my injured bicep.

“I-is there anything I can do?” He cried.

“You love me and that’s enough.”

I kissed him on the forehead. He shifted his head so he could gaze up at me. A soft smile spread across his lips and he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“What happened the other night, BJ, meant so much to me. You have no idea.”

I was feeling sentimental; it wasn’t everyday that I got stabbed after all.

He chuckled, “It meant a lot to me too.”

“I’m not joking Bj!”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Well, don’t laugh!”

He reached a hand up and stroked my cheek.

“Honey, I wasn’t laughing. Honestly.” He pressed his lips to mine, “It was how god damn sloppy you were.”

I blushed. He kissed me again, this time harder. His tongue teased my bottom lip before beginning to leisurely explore my mouth. I leant back and he gently positioned himself on top of me. I moaned into the kiss, it stirred me to the very core and my briefs suddenly felt very tight.

“Well hello Mr Dirnt.” Billie sighed as his thigh grazed my erection.

He shifted and accidently fell against my wounded arm. I hissed with, making him jump up in surprise.

“Oh shit. Oh shit! I am so sorry Mikey.”

“It’s okay BJ.” I sat up and began to massage my bicep, “I guess this just means no, er, ‘rough play’.”

To my surprise, and curiosity, Billie Joe smirked.

“Really? We can’t play at all?”

“Well…we…um.” I stammered.

He knelt before me, placed his hands on my knees and pushed my legs apart. I shuttered all over at the thought of what was going through his mind. He rubbed his hands up the inner sides of my thighs until they reached the bulge at my crouch. Gently he undid the buttons and pulled my trousers and briefs to the floor. Once again I was fully exposed and the idea of it only made my erection stiffen more.

“B-BJ….” I sighed.

“Exactually.” He chuckled as he began to fondle my balls, his lips kissing my thighs and his other hand caressing my prominent hip bone.

His teeth nipped and sucked at my flesh, the hand on my waist grew ever lower. He toke me in his hand and stroked me gently, using his thumb to tease the tip. I gasped and bit my lip.

“God, you sound so hot.” He whispered.

I was too filled with want to even attempt to form sentences. He licked smoothly at the velvet of my foreskin, one hand was still massaging my balls while he hand the other placed on my waist once again. My cock grew and hardened with each lick.

“I’m gonna show ya how sorry I am.”

“BJ, y- you—“

He wrapped his lips around me, swirling his tongue around while applying next to no amount of pressure with his lips. He began to suck and I trembled with pleasure. My fingers dug into the fabric of the couch. He sucked just at the end, purposely making me want more.

“Fuck. H—hurry up.”

He plunged all the way down on me. It sent a tremble throughout my whole body and I felt as if I might come then and there. He bobbed up and down on my shaft, licking and paying great care and attention to his rhythm. He’s built me up deliberately; preventing me from exploding. He sucked harder and harder, faster and faster, his tongue swirling.

I felt my belly warming and I cried his name as I let go. My cum sprayed down his throat but he kept his mouth around my cock; lapping up every last drop. He gently pulled away and wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve.

Billie swiftly climbed up beside me and planted a kiss to my lips. I could taste myself on his tongue.

“If this is what Tre meant by ‘guilt tripping’, I want you to do it every day.”


	11. Completely different, yet entirely the same.

The next morning I woke to find Billie Joe standing in the kitchen area. He was clad only in a pair of white briefs, one of my old band shirts and his black beanie hat. I sat up on my right elbow, the one which hadn’t been damaged by Fink, and gawked at him; his slender fingers drummed on the table top to an imaginary beat and he swung his slender hips gently.

The kettle came to a shaking boil; he poured two cups of coffee and popped bread into the toaster. He gracefully took both mugs in his hands, turned towards me and smirked.

“Yous up Mikey! I gots hot liquid for your insides!” his grin was so boyish and innocent, just like that of Billie Joes.

I smiled at his jazzy undertones.

“Twitch.” I exclaimed, “God, I’m glad to see you!”

He sat down next to me, crossing his legs as he did so. Both coffees were placed in the space between them. I chuckled and sneaked a hand over to take one.

“Keep those fingers of yours reachin for the caffeine, sweet pea. Too early for any bodily functions.”

I, deliberately, grazed my hand along the inside of his toned thigh before taking hold of the mug. He shuttered and sighed.

“Michael! You’re a troublesome boy!” he smirked.

“What? I was getting my coffee.” I replied slyly.

Twitch seductively lifted his own mug to his lips and took a long sip of the coffee. He kept his eyes on me the entire time, gazing over the edge of the rim with a half glazed glance.

His beauty was so different, yet he was just the same ‘Billie Joe’. This new persona give the impression that Billie’s skin was a smooth as silk, when I knew it was just regular, soft skin. His eyes seemed were so deep and so light that the green seemed to be fading more and more the longer I looked. The tufts of hair peeking from beneath his hat seemed almost a profound blue when the light hit them. I wanted to know what lay behind them, what pain he felt and what memories he had. Even if he was just another side to Billie, I wanted to know and hear it all from his mouth, with his jazzy tone and while gazing into his eyes.

Then he smiled at me. Not his usual smirk or grin; but a genuine smile. I melted inside. It was so innocent and childlike. Yet, when he leapt from the bed and sauntered to the kitchenette once more, his movement was so graceful and yet so enticing. I couldn’t take my eyes off the side to side motions of his hips or from the exposed flesh on his stomach as he reached up to grab a plate. Everything about him was so suggestive.

I blushed a little upon noticing his thin, dark landing strip when he turned back to face me. Spotting the rough flexing of his tattooed biceps made my cheeks grow hotter. If I am honest, the site was making me rather excited.

Twitch bit into a slice of burnt toast and chewed absentmindedly. Once he had swallowed his eyes caught mine.

“Oh Geez!” he exclaimed, “Do you want cream?”

I jumped, “Er…what?”

“For your coffee?” a smirk pulled at the edges of his pale lips.

“Oh…no thanks. I’m good.”

I rested my coffee upon my belly while the small man turned his back to me. He jammed and buttered another piece of toast.

“Coulda fooled me honey.”

He hummed softly to himself and swings his hips to the beat. He knew damn well he was teasing me.

“What do ya mean ‘Coulda fooled me’?” I mocked his voice as best I could, but I failed miserably.

Without answering me, he kicked the fridge closed, meandered over to the bed and set his plate upon the nightstand. Next thing I know his hand was around my hard erection. I bit my lip to prevent myself from crying out.

He lent over me so that his mouth was level with my ear, “You’s got wood there Mikey.” He chuckled, “And a hell of a lot of it.”

Twitch squeezed my sensitive cock, sending a shudder through my body.

“What did I tell ya about it being too early for spillings?” he whispered.

He promptly released me, wiped his hands on his pants and sat back to enjoy his breakfast. I gawked at him in both anger and bafflement. Yet he just chewed blamelessly on his toast.

“What about me?!” I squeaked.

Sneering he rose from the bed and, once again, sauntered to the kitchenette where he placed his dishes in the sink and lent back against the counter. I gestured towards my neglected hard on and he shrugged.

“I don’t know about you sugar lump but I feel like site seein this big old place. Getting a few cheesy Polaroid’s, buyin some nazzy tit bits and joinin in with the honeys on the streets. Y’know? All tourist like.” He wholly ignored my question and continued on about seeing the city.

Again, I snapped at him and he once again by passed me. Deviously he began to get dressed, pulling on a pair of Billie’s tighter jeans, a white shirt and leaving it wide open at the neck. I continued to squirm, trying to ease my erection; but, as predicted, it was in vain.

Twitch twisted in front of mirror to get a view of his ass and, once satisfied that it was intact, he shrugged on Billie Joe’s tan jacket with the fur around the hood. I know that it was technically still Billie Joe that I was sharing the room with, but the cut seemed to fit better than it had before. However the hat was a dead loss.

“I is goin now, I got the cellular phone and the other what’s it’s. See you later honey bee.”

He quickly pecked me on the cheek and was out the door before I could protest. I went to get up but the combined jolt in my arm and the current state of my member made it both uncomfortable and painful.

***

“We’re flying back home next week.” Tre explained.

He sat hunched over his laptop at the coffee table in my hotel room. He wore sunglasses on his face even though the sun was barley shinning; from what he had told me his ‘business’ had involved far too much tequila.

It had been well over three hours since Billie Joe had left me alone and I hadn’t heard a peep from him since. I wasn’t overly worried though. Twitch was nothing to worry about; Fink, on the other hand, was.

Tre continued to check though our emails, taking occasional sips of his head ache drink between clicks. I gazed out the window over the view of the city. For a while I was focused only on the birds crossing the sky, the leaves swaying in the breeze, the sound of the church bells tolling for some unknown reason. I was lost in the sensation of Berlin.

“Mike!”

My head snapped round at the urgent sound of my name. Tre held my phone out to me. The device was vibrating and crying the familiar theme of The Simpsons. I snatched it from his fingers.

“Hello?!” I muttered.

“Mike! Mike it’s me, Billie Joe!”

He sounded frightened, his voice was shaking and he seemed to be panting into the receiver.

“Are you okay?”

“C-can you come and get me? I’m at a Starbucks down town.”

“Billie…what’s happened?!”

“I don’t know. I-I don’t remember ever leaving the hotel. J-just come and get me please.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I’ll be there in a moment!”

He gave me the exact directions. Tre and I climbed into the hired car and sped towards our distressing friend.

“Billie needs to see a doctor.” Tre sighed.

“God knows what else is going on inside his head. We probably don’t know the half of it. But I don’t give a rat’s ass what the media decide to make of this, Billie Joe needs to get home and get urgent medical attention.”

“How do you know it’s not just the stress and the head injury? I mean it’s not that serious that he needs that much medical treatment. A doctor could do just as well.”

“No Tre! It is serious. He has mood swings, he seems to change personalities; what more indication do you need for serious medical treatment? He cut his own hair and stabbed me for Christ’s sake! You saw him that night?! And it’s not just that physco that he’s become, there’s another one. A softer one.”

“What?”

“That’s my question exactually.”


	12. All my senses are coming unglued.

Tre went to the counter to order two drinks while I approached an anxious Billie Joe. He sat alone in a booth in the furthest corner of the small coffee house, still clad in the clothes Twitch had left wearing this morning. He had a mug in front of him and a blue berry muffin which he had barely touched.

When he saw me looming towards him, he jumped up and pulled me into a tight hug. I returned the favour.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

We parted, he took a seat and I sat down opposite him. He still hadn’t answered my question; instead he smoothed his thumbs up and down the edge of the mug. I lent my head down, trying to catch a glimpse of his shaded eyes.

“Billie?”

“No. I am not fucking okay.” He said it rather calmly, despite the harsh swearing.

Tre appeared before I could press further. He placed before me a large mocha and he himself had a hot chocolate with marshmallows and cream. He patted Billie Joe on the back briefly before sitting down.

“What happened BJ?!” The drummer asked.

I leaned forward, indicating that I was more than ready to hear his explanation. He placed his head in his hands and shook it gently.

“I don’t know.” He started, “I just found myself sitting at a bench in the city centre and…and I just freaked out. So I decided to go to the nearest Starbucks that I knew and then I called you.”

I had to hand it to Billie Joe, he was getting better at thinking logically during his bouts of panic. He knew we had come to this Starbucks twice during our trip, he knew how far it was from the hotel and he knew that we would know exactally where it was.

“You did the right thing BJ.” I whispered.

“I don’t remember waking up this morning. I…I just remember going to bed last night and falling asleep. Then… then I wake up on a fucking bench!” he looked at me, his eyes were so full of underlying fear, “Do you remember me leaving?”

Tre gazed at me in confusion.

“How would you know? Did he stay with you last night?”

I glanced from one friend to the other and felt the undeniable burn on my cheeks blushing. I looked down into my coffee as if trying to find the answer somewhere in its milky depths.

“We…we’ve been sleeping together.” I admitted

I looked up to catch the singer’s reaction, but there was none. He simply stared blankly at the table. Tre, however, seemed to be processing the information in his mind, turning it over and over, trying to find some sense behind it. Eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime, he smiled; genuinely smiled.

“Aww guys! That’s…that’s great! I fucking knew you two had something going there!”

“Yeah it’s just spiffy isn’t it?” I said sarcastically, “Our wives aren’t going to care that we love each other or anything!”

“You love each other?”

That caught Tre off guard more than admitting we were having sex. His eyes went to sappy goo and he grinned.

“I thought it was just sex! But you love each other!?” he looked from me to Billie Joe, whom still stared blankly at the table, “That’s fucking great!”

“Can we talk about this later?” Billie joe replied in a hushed whisper.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Mike. Do you remember me leaving?”

I nodded, “Yeah. I let you go because you seemed fine.”

“But it wasn’t me!” He snarled, “It was one of them! How could you let me leave!?”

“What was I meant to do? Just stop you?” My temper was wearing thin.

“You should have locked the door and not let me leave!”

“What? I should have tried to stop you like I tried to stop you cutting up your own scalp? Because we all know how that ended!”

It was out before I could prevent it. He fell silent and averted his gaze. Tre glared at me, his eyes begging to know why the fuck I had just brought that up.

“Can we just go home?” Billie Joe whispered.

“Yeah BJ, that sounds like a good idea.” Tre replied.

***

Billie Joe didn’t break breath with me for the rest of the afternoon. He returned to his own room that night and I was left to my king sized bed alone. It was strange without his small body radiatating heat beside me. Most of the night I lay watching the free view television or listening to my ipod.

Still, it didn’t take away that niggling feeling that I had at the pit of my stomach.

***

At five fifteen in the morning, when the sun was just beginning to peek around the blinds, there came a hesitant knock on my door. Luckily I had the television down low, or the sound would have been lost.

“I’m coming.” I called, pulling on my sweater.

I shuffled to the door and unbarred it. Billie Joe stood with his arms folded across his chest, his back hunched and his head hanging low. He had the hood of his sweater pulled up over his skull and, despite how cold he obviously was, wore only chequered boxers and nothing on his feet.

“Can I come in?” he asked timidly.

I stood out of the way and gestured for him to walk by me. He did so with no further hesitation.

“What’s up Bj?” I asked once he was comfortably seated on the bed.

“I can’t sleep.”

He refused to meet my gaze, his eyes focused only on the tops of his bare feet.

“Okay.” I sighed and knelt before him, “Is something bothering you BJ?”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. His face was mostly shadowed by the hood but beneath it I could see tears sparkling in his eyes.

“You can tell me Billie.”

I gently took hold of his hand and, to my relief, he squeezed it tight.

“They won’t get out of my head.” The singer muttered through clenched teeth.

“Who?”

“One of them calls himself Reverend Strychnine Twitch and the other guy…” he drew in a deep breath, “he says he’s the devil.”

At that moment he looked up at me, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears and his lips clasped together. I felt a chill sweep through my own body.

Gently I reached up and caressed his cheek. He lent into the warmth of my touch.

“He’s not the devil Billie Joe.” I whispered, “I promise you that.”

But could I really? How did I know that ‘Fink’ really wasn’t the devil? Or some sort of demon?

“H-he’s lying.” Still, I kept playing the game.

“How do you know?”

Billie Joe sighed. He slid from the bed and buried himself into my chest. I held him in my arms, listening to the quiet whimpers and sighs catching in the back of his throat. I pushed down the material of the hood and his hair, I now saw, was in matted bits. Clumps were missing from various sections and the bare scalp was scarred. For days I had only seen him with his head covered and the realisation of how horrible the situation actually was brought me almost to tears. What had Billie Joe ever done to deserve this?

He shifted and squeezed me tighter.

“I’ve met him Billie Joe. He’s nothing but a lying cheater who’s bent on destruction and violence.” I answered.

“So’s the devil Mikey.”


	13. You name the time.

“Do you want a crème filled doughnut?”

I looked back to where Billie Joe was sitting, covered in the duvet and with a fort of pillows, upon my bed. He shook his head against the cushions and curled tighter into the cocoon.

“How about a packet of peanuts?” I reached further into the hotel fridge, “Or Ice cream?”

“Dude that stuff costs an arm and a leg, I’m fine with a cup of coffee I swear.”

I closed the fridges door with a soft thud and sighed deeply in frustration. We had spent the whole night talking about things, turning options over and over in our minds and as expected the solution was still the same as ever. Clearly I was trying to find an answer that Billie Joe wanted to hear but, as usual, it was in vain.

The kettle came to a quaking boil and I poured its contents into the two prepared mugs. Just as I began to carry both steaming coffees over to the bed, the hotel door burst open and Tre waltzed into the room.

“Good morning Mi-“He paused as he spied Billie peeking his head from around the covers, “Mike, you got a Billie in your bed!”

He bounded onto the bed, sat back and placed his arms behind his head. I ignored him and set both coffees on the nightstand by Billie Joe.

“So, did you two bump the uglies last night?”

“We talked.” Billie Joe explained, his voice holding no emotion or expression.

“Oh geez you guys are that sort of couple!” he screwed up is face in a disgusted sort of way.

“We talked about the problem at hand Tre. I usually love your joking around to calm serious situations down but seriously dude this is a case of Billie’s mental health.”

“I know dude I’m just trying to chill you guys out. But I am being serious.”

“Really? What have you done? Apart from book flights and get the whole cancelling shit out of the way?”

“I sorted the shit at the hospital and calmed Billie down when he took a complete nervous breakdown when you were admitted!”

I looked to the bundle on the bed.

“He did.” Billie Joe confirmed.

“Okay, okay. I admit you have helped.” I sighed and sat on the end of the bed between Billie Joe and Tre.

There was something about us all being in the one room that made me feel safe. The tingling in my arm felt less threatening to me, as did Billie Joe’s sudden illness. I can’t explain it, I never could, but recently I felt that we three could take down anything that was thrown at us. There was a lack of solitude about it, the same feeling that I felt when Billie Joe and I lay together; minus the touching of body parts.

“Right, so, where is my coffee? And if you guys aren’t going to eat your doughnuts can I?”

Tre, in typical Cool fashion, ruined the moment. I gestured to the fridge, waving my hand in a ‘go ahead’ motion. He jumped from the bed and began to help himself. I shuffled up beside Billie Joe. He rested his head onto my chest and I wrapped an arm around his thin shoulders. He had lost weight, I could both feel it and see it, this whole thing had him more rattled than he had ever been and it was causing him to lose his appetite; a thing the man very rarely lost.

His eyes watched the drummer idly while holding onto my ‘CKY’ t-shirt. The duvet now was bunched around his middle and the sleeves of his hoodie gathered at his elbows revealing several deep gashes on his left arm. I drew in a deep breath and gently took hold of his wrist.

“Billie, what happened?” I asked.

Tre glanced over to the scene and his eyes widened. Billie Joe looked from me, to Tre and then to his tattered arm. His breathing quickened, it came in short gasps and whines.

“I-I…oh god.” He was shaking, “I don’t know.”

“Did you do this to yourself?” I whispered gently.

“No! Fucking Christ no!”

“It’s okay if you did BJ. I mean, we won’t think any less of you but…but it’s scary to see you like this.” Tre came and sat on the edge of the bed.

Billie Joe pulled his arm from me and gazed at it. Tears streaked his cheeks and he glided his fingers smoothly across the still bloody scratches.

“I didn’t do this. I…they…”

He collapsed back into the mound of pillows, releasing his arm and sighing. I pulled the sleeve down and placed a hand on his head.

“It’s okay.” I said, even though it wasn’t.

“He’s trying to destroy me.” Billie exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, “He’s a suicidal mess and is taking all his shit out on me. My wife is going to think I am crazy, my boys will never want to be near me; they’ll lock me up and throw away the key.”

“They won’t BJ. I was looking this shit up on the internet and loads of people experience this. You can get help! There’s a way out.” Tre replied, he then looked to me and smiled,”See, I help.”

I made a face.

“We’re going to be here for you, okay? Every step of the way, we’ll be there.” I leant down and kissed his lips, tasting the salt of his tears upon them.

He rolled onto his side and coward up against me. Tre retreated back to the kitchen to continue his raiding of the fridge and I switched on the TV to a German music station which we had visited back in 2004.

Tre threw me the first aid box and I persuaded Billie Joe to allow me to tend to his wounds. He eventually pulled up the sleeve, wiped on the antiseptic himself and watched as I placed butterflies over the biggest of the seven. I topped them all off with a layer of cloth bandage and declared the ordeal finished.

“Is there nothing English on?” Tre complained.

“There’s only CNN.” I replied.

“Oh don’t put that on Mike. We don’t need more bad news than we already got.” Billie joe moaned and buried his face against my chest.

I chuckled and stroked his patchy hair. The presenter on the television said something to the camera and the audience laughed. Tre pouted.

“I think that German bitch just called me a whore.”


	14. Living bad dreams.

In a week there was almost no activity. Billie Joe stayed with me every night and I held him as he slept. He would often wake up in the middle of the night whimpering or finding himself unable to breath at which point I would be on hand to help and comfort him. It was really taking a toll on the singer. Not only had Tre and I noticed it but the rest of the crew were beginning to see it as well. His absence from meals was enough to raise suspicion but if they were to catch a glimpse of his swallow skin, his dim green eyes with their dark and yellow bags and his matted hair, they would surely call a medic.

His bones were beginning to jut out of his skin. I could feel his shoulder blades and his spinal cord as clear as day when I lay next to him. His hip bones protruded from his pelvis and when he lay stretched out his ribs boldly appeared. We had prompted him to eat but he just refused, he refused activity, writing and even strumming his guitar. He just slept. Each time his wife or one of his kids called him he acted like everything was peachy. When asked about the cancellation of the tour he claimed that he was just exhausted.

Of course Adi worried. She called me asking for the truth and I told her, bluntly, it was not my place to say and begged her to wait until Billie was home to ask any further questions. So, she stopped calling and resorted to texting her husband.

For a few days I lay with Billie in bed, holding him tight and keeping him warm. Eventually, though, I got frustrated with hanging around indoors all day and left to explore the streets of Berlin with Tre. Not that Billie Joe even noticed. I would come back each day, or night, and he would be in the same position I left him, except with maybe a few more cigarette butts in the ashtray.

In fact that’s all he did apart from sleep and drink tea. He smoked continuously and I was running back and forth to the hotel store buying cartons upon cartons of the cancer sticks. Watching him puff one after the other made my own desire for the nicotine dwindle; in fact, it made me feel queasy.

***

Mike sat with his feet balanced on the coffee table, the German magazine given to him by Tre sitting in his lap. He couldn’t even read the damn thing; all he did was stare at the picture.

I snuggled into the warmth of the duvet and did my best to concentrate on the television. I had been watching it but never fully grasping what was going on. Needless to say my mind was on other things.

“So what? You’re going to lie on your fat ass all day?”

“Cool it Fink. Leave the puppy alone.”

I cringed and bit down on my lip. The two of them, the latter I knew to be Twitch and the former ‘Satan’, had begun to bicker and argue continually. For a while sleeping had been my only freedom, but they had even taken to controlling my dreams.

‘Satan’ was a glutton for punishment. He may have been in my body, feeling what I felt, but he sure as hell liked to inflict pain upon it. Twitch I knew to be more of a lover than a fighter, but his presence still gave me a strange feeling in my gut.

“Fuck off faggot. I’m just trying to get limp dick to stop wallowing in his own self pity.” ‘Satan’ sighed, “What a pussy.”

“You’re makin the poor baby feel worse you swamp dweller!”

I whimpered, despite myself, and I heard the shifting of the couch material as Mike stood. My eyes were squeezed shut, my head buried into the covers. I felt the bed dip as my best friend sat down next to me and he placed his hand gently onto, where he assumed, my shoulder was.

“BJ? You alright?”

I didn’t answer him. The war between the two personalities was holding most of my attention; the small fragment of sanity I had left was concentrating on keeping my eyes firmly closed.

“Fuckin pussy. Be a real man Billie Joe and stop whimpering!”

Tears slid down my cheeks and I bit onto my lower lip hard enough to cause the metallic taste of blood to fill my mouth. My hands were fisted into my hair, my body pulled into a trembling foetal position and my heart beat wildly in my chest.

“Quit it Fink!”

“Billie Joe? Come out from there, let me help. Please.” Mike sounded terrified, his hand was shaking me and trying to pull back the covers, “BJ please.”

“Go fuck yourself you pansy! Come on Billie Joe, let’s go out and party! Get some booze and young ass!”

I shook my head. The duvet was stripped from my body and Mike was gripping onto my shoulder, pushing me round to lay onto my back.

“Breathe BJ, just try to breathe.”

“Fink! He’s got a purdy wife and two kids!”

“Didn’t stop him from fucking the shit out of his best friend!”

“Stop it!” I screamed.

I pushed Mike away from me and threw myself off the other side of the bed. My night shirt was covered in sweat and my briefs felt sticky against my skin. Mike’s expression was one of pure horror and anxiety. He moved carefully around the bed, his hands out in front of him reaching for me.

“Calm down.” He whispered.

I, again, shook my head; my eyes wide and my mouth dry. They were still going at it in my head, each biting back at each other, one defending me and one putting me down.

“He’s a fag, don’t let him touch you.”

As soon as Mike came within an inch of me, I pushed him violently away. I gazed at him through the matted hair hanging in my eyes, my hands balled into fists by my side and my feet placed far apart; I was ready for a fight if needs be.

He rubbed his healing arm as he watched me through wide, sapphire eyes. Something inside me laughed at the thought of hurting Mike again but I quickly shot it down.

“You have him at a disadvantage Billie boy. You’re stronger, go on, have some fun.”

My whole body quivered and a shiver ran up and down my spine. Slowly my hands uncurled and I brought them to rest on my head.

“Stop it.” I whimpered, “Just stop it.”

“Just leave him be you fiend!”

“Both of you fucking shut up!”

“Stay out of this faggot. Go back to whatever hole in his head you crawled from!”

Next thing I knew, I was on my knees, my hands fisted into my hair and my entire body shaking. Mike was landed beside me and pulled me into his chest. I sobbed into his t-shirt, the heels of my hands thumping at my temples as the two personalities continued to bicker back and forth.

“Shh now. Stop that.” Mike tried to pry my hands away from my forehead, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

I allowed him to gently take hold of my wrists and hold my hands in his. I buried my head into the base of his neck and allowed his familiar scent to sooth me.

“T-take it away Mikey. Make it stop.” I whined.

“I can’t BJ. But I promise we’ll get this sorted. Please just hold on. For me.”

“I can’t.” I sobbed, choking on my words, “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to be here.”

“Don’t say that Billie, please. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“He would manage.”

I bit my lip and cried harder. The rougher of the two, Fink or was it Satan, was right. Mike would manage without me.

“Let’s get back into bed BJ. You’re shakin.”

Mike’s voice was soft and calm. The vibrations in his throat lulled me closer to slumber. His very presence seemed to dull the voices in my head, his warmth soothed my aching limbs and his gentle touch told me I was alive. I nodded into his chest and he lifted my body onto the mattress before crawling in next to me.

As we lay there, his arms around me and his voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear, I put up a wall between us and the rest of the world.


	15. Between a hammer and a hard place #1

Voices sounded over the intercom; voices that no longer made sense. Everything around me was just a blur. The usual commotion of the airport brushed by me, I kept my sun glasses on and my body spread out on a row of terminal seats. Mike was sitting by my side reading one of his novels while Tre and Jason White were discussing German food and I could hear every word of their insane conversation. I buried my head into my chest, the hood pulled up on my sweater and my hands tucked into my chest. One fist was in my mouth and I gnawed on it gently.

My ears were ringing with a screaming ‘eeeeee’. It was the sound of my brain turning to mush, my thoughts dying in my endless negativity and all of my cells dying. For days it had been the same hopeless and depressing void. The voices in my head were talking me both up and down, bickering with each other, fighting for my sanity. I can tell you, they had very little left to fight for.

I could feel people’s eyes boring into my back. I stirred and pulled myself into a tighter ball trying to shake that feeling, but only succeeded in giving myself a hard knock on the knee. Mike, I assume, placed his hand on my head and lent down.

“You okay?” I heard his velvety voice utter and nodded without so much as a grunt.

He sighed and straightened back up.

“Honey drop, why don’t you go for a walk?”

“Because.” I thought in response.

Twitch. He was the nicer one, the one I had grown to actually quite like. He defended me against that other devil and treated me like somewhat of a ‘son’. But that’s not to say that I wanted him anywhere inside my body. No, I just preferred him to Fink.

As if on cue his slimy accent filled my head.

“He should go for a fuckin smoke but no,” he dragged out the ‘o’ ,” We all have to stay coped up in here like fuckin rabbits until we can catch a plane home.”

“Oh shut up Fink! He doesn’t need any more of your jabberin!”

“Both of you just fuck off.”

I had whispered it to myself knowingly, masking it to be like a mummer in my sleep. I felt a hand pat me gently on the shoulder and the soft ‘hush’ above told me it was Tre. He laid something over the top of me, I later discovered to be a blanket, and I heard him shuffle back to his seat.

For the first time in a week I felt myself grow genuinely tired. My whole body was engulfed in warmth, my arms were pulled up against my chest and I could feel all my limbs beginning to relax. Last thing I hear is the faded sound of the intercom calling a flight.

I woke Billie Joe when our flight was called. He sat up upon the terminal chairs, pulled the blanket Tre had laid over him up to his chin and then attempted to stand. He stumbled and almost fell to the ground had it not been for me reaching out to catch him. His body was so weak and frail, his weight had dropped significantly and I knew he must be tired from his lack of nutrition. Jason moved forward, laid a hand on my shoulder and whispered into my ear. He then proceeded to lift Billie Joe up onto his back, the singer’s hooded skull resting on his shoulder and his legs dangling on either side of White’s waist.

I followed, with both my backpack and Billie’s propped on my back. Tre rolled his blanket up and carried it with him.

“We should take him straight to the hospital.” Tre whispered to me.

Freese sprung promptly to my side.

“He should have been in the hospital ages ago. Why didn’t any of you take him?” He snapped.

“He wouldn’t allow it.” I replied mournfully.

“Insist! You should have insisted!”

Jason promptly swung round to face us, Billie Joe lying limply across his back.

“Would you all shut it? It’s too late now. We can get all that sorted when we get back, take him home, inform Adie and then off to the hospital. Or on call doctor – whatever! Just let’s not discuss it now and upset him further.” Jason hoisted him further up onto his back, “He may be out of it at the moment but he isn’t asleep. Or deaf!”

Jason was right and we all fell silent as we filed onto the plane. We took up first class on the plane, mostly so no one would bother us. Its fun being a rock star and meeting fans and all but sometimes you just want peace.

Billie Joe was laid out next to me, his head fell against my shoulder and Tre tucked the blanket back around his now gaunt body. He was shivering rather harshly despite the heat of both the cabin and the covers, so I threw caution to the wind and pulled him closer to me.

“Thanks.” He whined.

It was sad to hear such a fragile voice come from the singer. Not only that but to watch him physically waste away, anxiety and God knows what rushing through his mind; it was heart breaking. Tre felt it too. I could see it in his cobalt eyes and in the way he gazed utterly at Billie Joe.

As we pulled away from the airport I thought of Adie and of the boys. If we, his friends and his crew, were this worried how would they react? It was going to take a lot of explaining. Myself and Tre had just about come to terms with both Twitch and, sadly, Fink but how would they react to hearing such news? And the effects it was having on Billie Joe’s mental and physical stability? I hated the answers I was giving myself but it was all too easy to think of the worst.

“Do you want something to eat BJ?” Tre leaned over me to the singer and pushed some hair from his face. Billie Joe opened one eye on a smidgen and then shook his head. The drummer sighed and retreated, “He has to eat.”

I nodded, “I know. But we can’t force him.”

Tre and I ordered drinks, I even ordered a coffee for Billie Joe, and bought some snacks to tide us over during the in flight movie; A movie neither of us would really be paying attention to.

Turns out the snacks I ordered didn’t get much attention either. Billie Joe’s depression was rubbing off on me; my stomach was so riddled with anxiety that eating seemed more of a chore than a pleasure.

After 4 hour most of the crew had kicked back and gotten some sleep, including Tre. I, however, lay wide awake, staring at the drop down television. Billie Joe shifted and snuggled his head into the nape of my neck.

“Thought you were sleeping.” I whispered.

“Nah. Haven’t slept since we got on this thing. I was just avoiding conversation.”

I scoffed, scared that if I spoke I would cry. Billie Joe never avoided conversation. His arm entwined around mine and his breath ghosted over my skin. I pulled him closer to me, wanting more of the warm, tingling sensation.

“You make me feel safe Mike.” He mumbled.

“It can’t be like this when you get home BJ.” I sighed mournfully.

He reached up to pull the hood upon his head further down across his face but didn’t reply. His sigh, a small feeble attempt at realization, brought tears to my eyes. He had known the situation couldn’t last but he had simply tried to ride out the comfort; I had ruined that.

Gently, I pulled his head against my chest. He buried his nose into the fabric, relaxing against my warmth. My arm was slung over his back and I allowed my hand to creep beneath the blanket. It came to rest upon his gaunt hip. I finally kissed his forehead before lying back in the seat and popping my headphones onto my ears.

There was no chance I was going to fall asleep. My brain cells were all but burnt out and the trembling of Billie’s fragile body scared me intensely. At a different time, not too long ago, I would have been aroused by the touch of my best friend and begging my mind to banish the sexual images. Not now though.

My love wasn’t an issue; not in that sense anyway. I wasn’t what he needed right then and the actions which had taken place in the last few weeks I was putting down to his fragile frame of mind. Surely he couldn’t feel the same as I, which would mean God doing something right for once and highly doubted that he liked me enough to cut me a break.


	16. Between a hammer and a hard place #2

I drifted in and out of sleep. Their voices had become like a constant buzzing, every so often getting louder and then falling to a whisper. Mike’s body was warm against mine and the rise and fall of his chest was so comforting.

My bliss was short lived as my stomach gave a tight tug. I thrust forward and gripped my arm around my middle. Mike grunted into live behind me, his hand coming up to rest on my shoulder. I clenched my teeth as another wave of pain shot through me.

 **“I think I found your pain button faggot."**

I almost cried at the sound of his thick tongue. Bile rushed up my throat, a bag was quickly thrust in front of my face before the sour liquid made its escape. All the while Mike patted my back and I heard Tre speaking with one of the air hostesses.

“It’s okay Billie Joe, I’ve got ya.”

Anger pricked in my veins. I hated the way Mike was talking to me, as if I was some sort of a child of his bitch. My breath hitched in my throat as I realized what had just crossed my mind. Never once had I hated Mike’s fatherly nature towards me, never had I hated his comfort or his arms around my shoulders.  
I sat back in my chair with my eyes wide open.

What was wrong with me?

“Just take it easy BJ.” Mike cooed. He pulled the blanket up around my shoulders and I absentmindly took hold on it.

I could feel sweat already beginning to cover my body. My bones ached and my limbs were quivering violently. Mike brushed the hair from my eyes and laid his palm gently on the skin. Something was mumbled; more voices joined the conversation, none of which was heard over the ringing in my ears.  
My head fell lazily back against the head rest. I could hear nothing nor could I see anything. My eyes were open yet I couldn’t see clearly. Only blurred shapes; like badly edited bokeh.

 _“Honey, you need to stay focused –“_

 **“Like fuck! Just sit back and relax.”**

“What are you doing to me?” I whispered, both in my mind and allowed.

 **“Doesn’t matter faggot. Just relax.”**

“No.”

 _“Fight it Billie.”_

“How? Its- it’s hurting.”

Tears leaked from the sides of my eyes. More movement on my left side, more unheard voices, louder and faster this time. Someone was touching me, gripping and shaking my shoulders.

“What’s going on?”

 _“Stop it you swamp dweller!”_

“Stop what? What—“

****

He was mumbling to himself. His lips were moving but only a percentage of sound was coming out. The air hostess was begging me to move so she could possibly help; like fuck she could. I shook him and tried looking directly into his eyes, but their green was fainted and cloudy. Tears ran down his cheeks.

His hands reached up and gripped my elbows. He was still in there, somewhere, and begging me for help. But how?

The rest of the crew were as terrified as clue less as I was although each tried to slot in beside me to give assistance. His eyes shut tight, squeezing more tears down his cheeks, his Adams apple bobbed as he gulped for air and his hands shook. Then he was sitting upright, his head in its usual position and his arms fell to his lap. I placed my hand upon his jaw.

“BJ?” I whispered.

His eyes shot open. They met mine, their irises dull and lifeless.

“Are you okay?” Tre asked.

“I-I’m okay.” He then shook his head, “No. I feel sick. Really sick. I- I need to lie down.”

Briefly glancing at Tre, I nodded and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.

“I can do it myself!” He shot darkly before snatching the covers from my hands and curling up into a ball upon his chair.

The worried crew returned to their seats, Tre reluctantly sat down next to me and the staff returned to the cabin. Billie Joe had turned his small body away from mine and I can’t lie; I was hurt.

I had no idea what had just happened. Everything had started and was over in a flash. The image of him, in agony, trembling and weeping was burned into my skull. I knew I was not the only one but I couldn’t help feeling like that was the case. The soft mumblings of the other crew came from every direction and, as I glanced over to Tre, I could see the drummer staring anxiously at the wall.

Billie wasn’t the only one with a problem. We were all affected in some sort of way. I could see it in everyone’s eyes; the pain, the fear and anxiety. I doubt the singer even took time to recognise it. How could he? There was enough going on in his head without thinking of all of us.

I couldn’t stop myself from being angry; but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try.


	17. If you're going to play with fire.

Holding my little boy in my arms made me forget, if just for a moment, of everything that had happened on tour, on stage and on the flight. He giggled and buried his face into my shoulder. He wasn’t even a year old and I could already tell that he had his mother’s good looks and his father’s attitude. Call it papa bear instinct.

Billie Joe met his family outside the airport as well. His youngest son, Jakob, wrapped his arms around Billie’s slim waist and wriggled up his nose.

“Daddy, you’ve gotten so small.” He said.

Billie Joe simply ruffled his hair before moving on to give Joseph a tight, fatherly, squeeze. Finally he held Adrienne tight to his chest and kissed her tenderly. From the corner of my eye I saw Billie Joe place his forehead to Adi’s, his hands gently caressing her cheeks. He whispered something to her and she nodded solemnly.

Brittney wrapped herself around my waist and stroked the stray strands from my eyes.

“You okay baby?” she asked me.

I hosted the little man further up in my arms before planting a kiss on her rosy lips. Guilt bubbled in my gut. I had kissed and caressed Billie Joe in same way not day’s ago, I had lain beside his warm body and made love to him as if he were the only person I loved. But yet here I was, kissing my wife.

Tre pulled me aside for word in my ear. I excused myself and followed him to the side of the road.

“What about Billie?” He asked.

“What about him?”

“Well, shouldn’t we talk to Adi? Explain things?”

I shrugged and gazed over at the couple. Things seemed to be okay. She was helping him with his suitcases; the boy’s were talking to him as if he never left. I looked back to the drummer.

“Billie will explain it to her. He’s a smart man.” I replied.

“I hope so.” Tre hung his head and moved back towards his former girlfriend.

I walked over to the Armstrong’s. Joey and Jakob hugged me and each started with their own round of questions. I politely declined, took hold of Billie’s shoulder and gestured to Adi that I was going to borrow him.

“So, are you going to talk to Adi?” I asked once we were out of ear shot.

He fiddled with his fingers; his head hung low, and mumbled something.

“Yeah. But-but what do I say?”

“The truth. You tell it how it is BJ.” I sighed and placed both hands onto his shoulders, “Bite the bullet and just sit her down tonight. Please Billie Joe, before something happens.”

He chewed on his lip momentarily before sighing and pledging defeat. I released him and he solemnly shuffled back to his family, his hands in his pockets and his tail between his legs.

My head was so full of contemplation that I found it hard to relax as myself, Brittney and Brixton sped home. My son giggled and made bubbling noses in the back seat while I sat in the front passenger side trying my hardest to hold up a decent conversation with my wife; I didn’t want to worry her.

“Honey?” she asked me.

I jumped to attention and took my eyes from the direction I had been obviously spacing out in. Her smile was small and shy, almost as if she didn’t know who I was. Truth is, she didn’t. Not really. The man she knew would never have fooled around with his best friend just because he had been in love ---. I swallowed. Did I just admit that I was in love with Billie Joe?

“Yeah?” I answered a little too quietly.

“What happened on tour? You never explained to me why it just ended?”

More than anything, I wish she hadn’t asked that question. I sighed heavily. My head throbbed just thinking about it, my tongue was tied; what do I say?

“Billie Joe he was sick. I mean he wasn’t sick he got injured which made him sick. Augh, I don’t know how to explain it.” I shook my head.

But I did anyway. I launched into the full story, missing out the sexual details of course. I told her about the morning I had been called, my friend’s mood swings and the breakdown on stage. I showed her my arm, which was still in the process of fully healing, and I even told her about the two entities. Brittney nodded along, her eyes never left the road but I could see them widening with disbelief.

“That’s it. That’s everything and I tell you Brit, it’s damn scary. Seeing my best friend that….animalistic.”  
“Mike, baby, that’s horrible. Does Adi know? He needs to see a doctor.”

“No she doesn’t, he is telling her tonight and yes, I know that. He will. Tomorrow I am taking him whether he likes it or not.”

She nodded and my son made a gurgling giggle of a noise in the backseat. We pulled up the drive into the home I had missed for many months. It was just the same except for a few extra plants here and there.  
Brittney insisted on carrying the bags and I did my part by taking the little man. I unlocked the front door, stepped into the hallway and was greeted by a tap tap of small feet and then a high pitched whine. In the living room door way sat a fluffy puppy, its tall swinging from side to side and it’s tongue hanging out the side of its mouth.

“Mike, this is Mikko.”

“It’s…cute.” I said.

“He’s been looking forward to meeting you baby.” Brittney set my bag down and went around to pet the young pup. It jumped up on her and snuggled into her leg.

“Affectionate little thing isn’t he?” I hosted Brixton up a bit as he began to squirm and reach for the pup, “Um, did you ever thing to consult me?”

“No time. The pound were going to put him down. Poor thing.”

“Alright but he better not get into my music room.”

“Already has Mike, and he plays a mean piano.”

*******

“Billie Joe how could you not tell me!?” Adrienne glared at me from where she stood at the sink. I sat in a chair at the breakfast bar, my head in my hands and my shoulders shaking with sobs.

She wasn’t shouting, not really, she was only giving me what I knew I deserved. I heard her click the kettle on and mugs being retrieved from the cupboard.

“Honey, why didn’t you tell me?” She asked again.

“I – I couldn’t. Hell, Adi, telling you now is damn near killing me.” I looked up at her, with what I knew were puffy eyes, “God dammit, look at me. I’m a mess.”

My heart sank as I saw the fear in her eyes. I realized that she was terrified of me, I was the source of her anxiety although I knew she would try her best to suppress it. I couldn’t blame here though; who could?

“You need to see a doctor.” Adi leant against the work top, a hand laid on either side and her head hanging low.

“Mike is taking me tomorrow. He texted me saying he would take me come hell or high water.”

“Well, I’m going too.” I opened my mouth to protest but her determined look cut me short. She was right of course; I would do the same if the shoe was on the other foot.

She made up two cups of strong coffee. After setting mine in front of me, in the all time favourite cup ‘#1 Rockstar’, she set down biscuits, the fruit bowl and some other oddities. Obviously it was an indication to eat.

I lifted an apple, took it by its stump and began to spin it around on the table surface. Adi snapped her hand down over mine, stopping the apple mid spin. I pouted.

“Don’t play, eat.” She said in the same tone she used

So I did. The apple tasted so sweet in my mouth, but good. It was when I had finished the whole thing that I began to feel full and sick.

“You know that’s not allowed Billie Joe.”

I cringed.

“What? Honey, are you okay?” Adi placed her hand in mine and I squeezed it back.

“Yeah, fine. Just feels weird to eat again. Just feelin a bit sick is all.”

My stomach gave a leap.

“I know just how to push your buttons, boy. Don’t forget it.”

Surprisingly he let up. Adi still had hold of my hand and when I looked up I realized she was crying. I reach forward to brush away her tears with my fingers.

“Please Adi, don’t cry. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

She attempted to smile but failed. I knew it was hard for her to see me like this, it was hard for everyone. I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through their minds, perhaps something similar to mine. Was I ever going to be right again? If I didn’t what was going to happen to me?

Quite frankly I would rather be dead than be unsafe in my own body.


	18. Baby steps.

The next day was beautiful and mild by Oakland standards. As I brushed my teeth and fixed my hair in the bathroom I shared with my wife, I listened to the birdsong outside my window and watched as the tree’s swayed in the gentle wind. Not a cloud hung in the sky and I knew that later, if the weather kept up, I would get Stella and Brixton out in the yard to play so games. Of course, Stella was growing up and may not want to play with her old man and Brixton wasn’t old enough but damn it, I can try.

Only one thing ruined this otherwise wonderful feeling; the nearing doctor’s appointment. I was scared for Billie Joe, so much so I felt it may as well have been me getting the tests.

Brixton’s cries pulled me out of my mind and I heard Brittney stirring in the bedroom. She sat up, rubbed at her eyes and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“I’ll get him honey –“ I began.

“No, no it’s alright. You’ve got a big day a head.” She paced to me and kissed me lightly on the cheek before setting off down the hall.

I heard her cooing him back to sleep, her delightfully velvet voice and his soft giggles warmed my heart in a way only Billie Joe could. It was both strange and upsetting that Billie was now in the same league as my wife, maybe even more so.

Shaking off my notions, I finished washing and left to get changed. If I was this nervous, how must Billie be feeling? What we find out today, or within the next week or so, could determine the rest of his life. It was a daunting thought.

After getting changed I bounded down the stairs. Brittney stood in the open plan kitchen and Brixton sat in his chair with a bottle of milk sat on the table at the front. He smiled when I sauntered in, his face lighting up and his arms reaching out.

“He wouldn’t go back down so I’m just going to give him his feed now.” Brittney said without turning to face me.

I tossed his fine, blonde hair.

“You had better be good for Mommy until I get back boy, then we’re going to play outside, y’hear.” He giggled and clapped his hands together, “That a boy.”

“Are you going now?”

“Not until I get a coffee and have time to talk with my girl.” I replied gleefully.

But as I sat down at the breakfast bar quilt settled in my stomach. When Brixton clapped his hands again and squealed with delight I felt so wrong. But the fact is I had done it and it felt so right.

“You don’t seem yourself Mike, are you sure you should go?” Brittney set a coffee down in front of me before gently running her fingers through my hair.

“Of course I’m not myself,” I sighed, “My best friend is loopy and I can’t figure out what to do about it.” I shook my head, “I’m sorry to lay this on you.”

I glanced up at the kitchen clock and realized how late in the morning it really was. I bounced from my stool, took a quick sip of the scalding coffee and kissed Brittney on the cheek.

“I’ll be back later.”

“Let me know.”

“Trust me honey, you’ll know when I walk through that door bawling that things are tits up.”

She smiled at my excuse for a joke and waved to me through the window as I left.

********************

As usual I bypassed the front door and slipped in through the back gate. Billie Joe was sitting on a patio chair, a cigarette in one hand and a carton of the sticks in the other. Beside him were his lighter and an ashtray full of butts. I could tell his smoking hadn’t dwindled any since he returned home and I was willing to bet his eating hadn’t gone down swimmingly as I had hoped.

He spotted me but made no attempt to wave or make a greeting, he just sat with his elbows rested on his knees and his cigarette in his mouth. He looked haggard and older than ever with unhealthy bags under his eyes and his hair an unruly mess of dark curls.

I skipped over and stood in front of him. Slowly, he gazed up at me.

“Morning Billie, you ready to go?” I asked.

He lowered his head.

“Adi is coming too. She insists.” He mumbled.

As if on cue she waltzed out onto the porch, pulling the heavy door behind her. She pulled me into a hug and offered to drive. I politely declined. Billie butted out his fag, stood up and pulled his cuffs down over his hands. He looked like a small child trying to just fade into himself, wishing the whole world would go away. My heart just damn near broke at the sight of it.

Adi looped her arm around his and I took hold of her other arm. He made no attempt to grip hold of her hand or to pull her nearer and the hurt was outlined on her face.

Adi climbed into the car first and, like a gentleman, I held the door for her. As I slammed it shut Billie Joe came up and roughly took hold of my hand.

“Mikey. Don’t you be letting anything troublesome happen to us.”

It was Twitch now, had most likely had been for the last few moments. I squeezed his fingers and attempted a smile.

“Twitch I promise we’ll fix this. But – But if we do you might not be around anymore.”

“That’s fine with little old me. I’m willing to die for Billie boys peace of mind. He deserves more than this. Than us.”

There was a tear in his voice, his throat cracking and straining with the effort to stop crying.

“You’re a hero Twitch. A damned amazing hero.” I whispered.

He nodded solemnly, “Sure, sure.” He smiled at me sadly, “an’ you’re Billie’s everything you know? Why, he would sooner kill himself than lose you Mikey. Don’t go breakin his little heart. Y’hear?”

“Only if he don’t break mine.”


	19. As much as it pains me.

The next day was beautiful and mild by Oakland standards. As I brushed my teeth and fixed my hair in the bathroom I shared with my wife, I listened to the birdsong outside my window and watched as the tree’s swayed in the gentle wind. Not a cloud hung in the sky and I knew that later, if the weather kept up, I would get Stella and Brixton out in the yard to play so games. Of course, Stella was growing up and may not want to play with her old man and Brixton wasn’t old enough but damn it, I can try.

Only one thing ruined this otherwise wonderful feeling; the nearing doctor’s appointment. I was scared for Billie Joe, so much so I felt it may as well have been me getting the tests.

Brixton’s cries pulled me out of my mind and I heard Brittney stirring in the bedroom. She sat up, rubbed at her eyes and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“I’ll get him honey –“ I began.

“No, no it’s alright. You’ve got a big day a head.” She paced to me and kissed me lightly on the cheek before setting off down the hall.

I heard her cooing him back to sleep, her delightfully velvet voice and his soft giggles warmed my heart in a way only Billie Joe could. It was both strange and upsetting that Billie was now in the same league as my wife, maybe even more so.

Shaking off my notions, I finished washing and left to get changed. If I was this nervous, how must Billie be feeling? What we find out today, or within the next week or so, could determine the rest of his life. It was a daunting thought.

After getting changed I bounded down the stairs. Brittney stood in the open plan kitchen and Brixton sat in his chair with a bottle of milk sat on the table at the front. He smiled when I sauntered in, his face lighting up and his arms reaching out.

“He wouldn’t go back down so I’m just going to give him his feed now.” Brittney said without turning to face me.

I tossed his fine, blonde hair.

“You had better be good for Mommy until I get back boy, then we’re going to play outside, y’hear.” He giggled and clapped his hands together, “That a boy.”

“Are you going now?”

“Not until I get a coffee and have time to talk with my girl.” I replied gleefully.

But as I sat down at the breakfast bar quilt settled in my stomach. When Brixton clapped his hands again and squealed with delight I felt so wrong. But the fact is I had done it and it felt so right.

“You don’t seem yourself Mike, are you sure you should go?” Brittney set a coffee down in front of me before gently running her fingers through my hair.

“Of course I’m not myself,” I sighed, “My best friend is loopy and I can’t figure out what to do about it.” I shook my head, “I’m sorry to lay this on you.”

I glanced up at the kitchen clock and realized how late in the morning it really was. I bounced from my stool, took a quick sip of the scalding coffee and kissed Brittney on the cheek.

“I’ll be back later.”

“Let me know.”

“Trust me honey, you’ll know when I walk through that door bawling that things are tits up.”

She smiled at my excuse for a joke and waved to me through the window as I left.

********************

As usual I bypassed the front door and slipped in through the back gate. Billie Joe was sitting on a patio chair, a cigarette in one hand and a carton of the sticks in the other. Beside him were his lighter and an ashtray full of butts. I could tell his smoking hadn’t dwindled any since he returned home and I was willing to bet his eating hadn’t gone down swimmingly as I had hoped.

He spotted me but made no attempt to wave or make a greeting, he just sat with his elbows rested on his knees and his cigarette in his mouth. He looked haggard and older than ever with unhealthy bags under his eyes and his hair an unruly mess of dark curls.

I skipped over and stood in front of him. Slowly, he gazed up at me.

“Morning Billie, you ready to go?” I asked.

He lowered his head.

“Adi is coming too. She insists.” He mumbled.

As if on cue she waltzed out onto the porch, pulling the heavy door behind her. She pulled me into a hug and offered to drive. I politely declined. Billie butted out his fag, stood up and pulled his cuffs down over his hands. He looked like a small child trying to just fade into himself, wishing the whole world would go away. My heart just damn near broke at the sight of it.

Adi looped her arm around his and I took hold of her other arm. He made no attempt to grip hold of her hand or to pull her nearer and the hurt was outlined on her face.

Adi climbed into the car first and, like a gentleman, I held the door for her. As I slammed it shut Billie Joe came up and roughly took hold of my hand.

“Mikey. Don’t you be letting anything troublesome happen to us.”

It was Twitch now, had most likely had been for the last few moments. I squeezed his fingers and attempted a smile.

“Twitch I promise we’ll fix this. But – But if we do you might not be around anymore.”

“That’s fine with little old me. I’m willing to die for Billie boys peace of mind. He deserves more than this. Than us.”

There was a tear in his voice, his throat cracking and straining with the effort to stop crying.

“You’re a hero Twitch. A damned amazing hero.” I whispered.

He nodded solemnly, “Sure, sure.” He smiled at me sadly, “an’ you’re Billie’s everything you know? Why, he would sooner kill himself than lose you Mikey. Don’t go breakin his little heart. Y’hear?”

“Only if he don’t break mine.”


	20. So deep it's bleeding.

I was a specimen, all caged up and beaten from the inside out. At least, I felt it. Jennings held a clipboard on her knee; I sat cross legged on the overstuffed chair, tapping my fingers against its arms. The questions she asked me were to be expected. Memory loss, black outs, vomiting; you name it she asked about it. It was mostly about waking up scared and confused but she also asked intimate questions, things no one had ever asked me before.

Was I lonely in life? Was I scared of rejection or abandonment? It really made me think in a way I never wanted to. She was making me question myself and at some point she would give me the answers, but did I really want to hear them? Or are their something’s people just shouldn’t know in order for a quiet, happy life?

I felt as if I was being prodded continually with a very blunt, very large knife. Each question she asked dwelled deeper into my childhood, my relationships with others and, of course, the inner cogs of my mind. I could feel myself becoming more and more frustrated with everything she said, whether it be a question or not. She was kind, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t like all this ‘invading of my space’.

“Please, can we just stop?” I asked.

It was only my first session with her after all; we shouldn’t be getting so intense.

“I need to get information for your diagnosious Mr Armstrong. I apologize that this is so tedious but it has to be done.” She sighed, “Many of my clients don’t like this part of the process, but I assure you now it gets worse. But It is worth it in the end.”

“I understand that but – but isn’t this a little too much for our first meeting?”

“I would seem but it’s necessary. Would you like a mug of coffee before we continue?”

“No thank you. Maybe you should tell my wife and Mike to go home. I don’t want them getting bored y’know?”

“I assure you Mr Armstrong we won’t be much more than thirty minutes. I’ll call a nurse to make them coffee and then we can continue.”

She did just that. I could just picture the awkward silence between the two in the waiting room, usually they were such good friends but somehow I knew the circumstances had lead to a change in atmosphere.

Jennings sat back down and beckoned me to continue. More questions were asked and more answers were murmured. That half an hour was the longest I had ever injured.

“I’ll be honest Mr Armstrong. What is going on here is definitely psychological. The bump on the head must have awoken something in the unconscious brain and has left you with the possible condition on multiple personality disorder. It’s not uncommon amongst head injuries but it is often linked to childhood traumas also. “

I was speechless and numb. My emotions were so mixed; was I scared, or angry or upset? I couldn’t tell. Jennings offered me a soft smile.

“Mr Armstrong you seem shocked?”

“I- I was expecting an actual mental disorder. I was expecting something that was temporary, that would go away with time. T-This won’t!”

“Mr Armstrong it is all a matter of opinion but I personally believe that this can be contained and controlled. Medication can help you contain the condition and regular sessions with therapists can help you understand why you have it.”

“I have this because some fuckers attacked me when my back was turned!” I snapped.

“I don’t believe that to be so Mr Armstrong. Yes, it was the spark but it wasn’t the fire. I think underlying issues were planted and were only brought to light due to the attack.”

I sat forward and hid my face in the palms of my hands. This wasn’t happening; it couldn’t be. Every fibre in my body was telling me to walk out and leave but for some reason I didn’t.

 _“Don’t be gettin your tail in a twist honey, just go with it.”_

I nodded as if approving Twitch’s words. He was right after all, he may only have been a voice inside my head but he was fucking right.

The silence in the room was unnerving. I could feel Jennings eyes boring holes into my skin, she was sitting so patiently and peacefully that I felt almost unable to move for fear of disrupting her. However I couldn’t take one more lonely tick of the clock nor could I stand the beating of my own heart in my ears, so I sat up right. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.

“Mr Armstrong it is in your best interest that you agree to our treatment.” Jennings stated.

“I know.” I nodded, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

The smile that spread along her face was almost sadistic and I cringed a little at its sudden appearance.

“Excellent. We can get started as soon as possible. Two day’s say?”

Two days left of freedom. Wouldn’t the rat be running now?


	21. Any time but now.

For those of you who are still free, run. If I was expecting a relaxing two days at home before hell broke loose, I was terribly mistaken. In fact, according to Mike, I was lucky I wasn’t admitted right away. They were keeping me as an outpatient for now only on the grounds that my mental health did not begin to deteriorate.

As I sat on the sofa that night, watching my eldest and youngest playing the xbox, I thought it rather irresponsible of the hospital to allow this. What if I were to attack the boys? Or my wife?

 _“I’m holding the ‘gator down honey,”_  Twitch would murmur to me.

It felt quite nice to have Fink out of the picture for a while. Twitch and I actually had decent ‘conversations’. For a voice in my head, he was a decent guy. The thought that this treatment would kill him was heart breaking and what if, like Fink said, Mike no longer loved me? I needed to see him; the anxiety was too much for me to stand.

“Adi?” I asked walking into her study.

She swung round on the leather chair and smiled at me; she was truly dazzling.

“C-Can I go see Mike?” I asked, “I just feel like some guy company right now, y’know, some drinks and man chat.”

She sighed, “Of course, you don’t need to ask. Is he picking you up?”

I knew she didn’t want me driving and I knew I shouldn’t be either, but I felt so small when she asked me that. I felt 14 years old again.

“I’ll call him and ask.”

“Billie, please don’t be angry for me asking that. You know you aren’t meant to drive.” She obviously sensed the tension and so, to enlighten her, I nodded.

“Yeah, I know. Just is hard for a guy like me, y’know? Mr Independent.”

She stood and embraced me in a hug. I squeezed her back, her body fit mine like a glove and her smell was wonderful. All at once I thought of Mike also and my heart broke. I loved them both as equally as each other. Mike fit like Adi fit, he made my heart flutter like Adi did; he was my male Adi.

Fuck.

“A-adi?”  
She nodded into my shoulder.

“You love me right?”

For a moment she didn’t reply. Then she took hold of my shoulders and gently pushed me away so that our eyes could meet. She searched my face.

“Of course Billie. Of course I fucking love you. If you think I would hate you for what happen – what is happening – you couldn’t be more wrong.” Tears formed in her eyes, “I just want you to be happy and well again.”

How do people in the movies do that shit? My heart was shattering more and more with every word she whispered.

“I love you too honey.” I took her face in my hands, “Always and forever.”

In that moment I don’t think I could have hated myself more. I was scum, dirt of the earth and Adi deserved more than me.

“You don’t deserve this, love. You need someone who can provide for you and be there for you all the time. I-I can’t do that anymore.”

“Billie –“

“Please. Let me finish. I can’t do that and it’s killing me. There is a lot killing me at the moment. I love you but I can’t do this to you.”

I kissed her gently on the lips and I could taste the salt of her tears. She whimpered.

“What are you saying?”

“I have no idea.” I whispered.

I didn’t want an answer nor did I want to see her cry. I turned on my heel and trod from the room, through the hallway and straight out the front door. But I didn’t call Mike, nor did I take the car; instead I walked.

“She’ll understand in time.” I thought.

 _“Honey, do you know what you are doing?”_

“No.”

 _“Okay. I guess I have to back you up, right sugar?”_

“Where else are you going to go?” I chuckled, “Not like you can leave.”

Twitch fell silent; my sarcastic and somewhat morbid tone obviously wasn’t working for him. The rushing of the cars and the slight breeze was all I had for company now. I knew nothing only that Mike’s was my destination.

**

“Billie Joe?”

Brittney stood at the front door with her blonde hair tied into a neat pony tail and Brixton proudly balanced in her arms. I did my best to smile but I knew I look like Death’s more attractive cousin.

“Hey, is Mike in?”

“Sure, he’s in the living room,” She ushered me on in, “That plan to play with the kids failed I guess.”

I nodded, “Yeah sucks. He was looking forward to it.”

I walked on through to the cosy living room where Mike was sat by the open fire watching the television. His feet were rested up on the coffee table and there was a white and black bundle of fluff lying on his lap.

“Well if this isn’t the cutest thing.” I chuckled.

He sat bolt up right.

“Oh hey. You didn’t drive here did you?” He scowled.

“No.” I sat down on the couch opposite, “I walked.”

We sat in silence for a moment, just watching the silent television screen. Brittney left Brixton in with us while she went to get groceries and I couldn’t have felt much better if The Who had played in my own back yard. I could finally talk with Mike without the danger of being over heard.

“So, er, Mike can I talk with you?”

“Sure BJ.” Mike said cuddling his son close to his chest, “Shoot.”

“I-it’s about us. Y’know? What happened on tour and all.”

Mike nodded without looking up.

“I love you, but I love Adi and – and what’s going on here is confusing me.”

“I love you too Billie and I do want to keep our relationship up but it’s not right. You know it and I know it. I love Britt but in all honestly not as much as I love you.” He gazed up at me, his eyes said everything he couldn’t and at once I understood; he wanted to be with me, “And I don’t care how wrong it is.”

“But what if Twitch were to go? Would you still love me?”

“Of fucking course I would you idiot!” he laughed, “I loved you years before Twitch even made an appearance.”

He got up and gently set the giggling child into his play pen before crossing the room to sit by me. He pulled me into a tight embrace and kissed me on the cheek.

“Please understand Billie, I love you but right now we need to concentrate on getting you better. I have a wife and child to provide for, so do you and if we were to change anything drastically it could set you back.”

“Yeah.” I replied solemnly.

“You’re all I want in life.” His voice broke, I could hear the tears straining his throat, “I just want you alive and – and yourself again. Only yourself.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought hard against the tears. How was I to tell him that he wasn’t the only one I wanted in life? I couldn’t, that was just it.

“M-mike, you’re all I want too.” But that’s just what I told him; another lie.

“Let’s not worry about any of that stuff now. Let’s just do what we are doing and keep it a secret. For now.”

I nodded into the fabric of his shirt but I didn’t like the sound of ‘for now.’ I could tell it wasn’t ideal for him too, call me over analytical but I knew the man like I knew the chords on Blue. The easy thump of his heart echoed into my ear and I felt all the antics of that day fade to black.


	22. And so it went.

The café was quiet today. Martha, one of the waitresses, served myself and Tre burgers and cold beers. Together we sat in silence; today Billie Joe was to start his medication. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, I was afraid of how it would affect him and how he would cope with out Twitch. Sure, the guy was a figment of Billie Joe’s mind but he had grown attached; I had grown attached.

Right now I was confused about our relationship. I loved him, more than I loved my own wife, but it was complicated. Y’know?

“He love’s Adi.” Tre stated, “And he adores his boys.”

I nodded, not really listening to his more than obvious statements.

“But he is fucking in love with you. He has been for years. Everyone on the crew knew it but you two.”

“Yeah, but now that we know it’s more fucked up than ever. That’s why keeping quiet and denying it was more than ideal.” I placed my head in my hands and sighed, “Fuck. This is just wanked.”

“Love is always screwed up Mike. I mean I have been fucked over so many times I lost count but I will never stop believing that it exists. That the perfect love is out there.” Tre was gazing out onto the street, watching a couple of birds fighting over food. His expression was so dreamy; so far away.

“There hasn’t been an ‘episodes’ since we got back.” I changed the subject, gripping Tre’s attention just like I had intended, “It’s good that the more ‘sane’ entity has been able to push down Fink.”

“Yeah. Let’s just hope it stays that way until the medication kicks in.”

I nodded, “But there’s a chance that the medication could rid Billie Joe of Twitch first, rather than Fink. It should ideally rid him of both at the once after a few months, or weeks, but that may not be the way it happens.”

“Shit.” Tre sighed, closed his eyes and pitched the bridge of his nose. “If I ever get my hands on the fuckers that did this too him, I swear to god they’ll put me away for life.”

“Hmph. They’ll chop my fucking head off for what I want to do to them.”

***

“So you are putting me on anti-depressants?”

Doctor Jennings scribbled on her note pad before nodding.

“Yes, well, with DID depression is often apparent. I may not rid you of them but it may help quiet them. In fact your treatment will take between five and seven years, Mr Armstrong. You will also be recommended to take part in relaxation methods.”

“Five to seven fucking years!” I stammered, “I can’t do that! I have a job. I have a band.”

“I understand that Mr Armstrong but there is no other way. I am sorry.”

I sat still. My hands held on tight to mug of hot coffee, my legs were crossed and, as far as I was concerned, nothing was real. This couldn’t be happening. What had I ever done to the man upstairs to provoke this, sure I didn’t go to church and I wasn’t religious but I have never done anything to hurt anyone. Not really. I felt betrayed, chewed up and spat out.

“What’s on your mind?”

I gazed up at the doctor blankly.

“Talking about it is a start Mr –“

“Billie Joe, call me Billie Joe.”

“Billie joe.” She smiled and pushed her glasses up into her hair.

“I – I feel so empty. Betrayed and worthless. It’s like I am in this hole and all the dirt is falling in around me.” I sighed and shook my head, “What have I do to deserve this?”

“What does anyone do to deserve anything like this Billie Joe? You are a man of the world, you are intelligent and creative, as well as being a deep thinking, I am sure you know that the world is a horrible place. I am sure you know how unfair life can be and how unexpected many things are. Billie Joe, the one thing you must understand, is to not give up. With the right attention and help this will get better.”

We sat in silence for a moment while I contemplated what I had just been told. No matter how much I had come to respect or like her in the last 30 minutes, I still couldn’t believe her. But I nodded regardless. I was willing to cooperate and do anything to get rid of Fink. Not so much Twitch.

“So, do you mind telling me about ‘Fink’ and ‘Twitch’?”

I told her briefly about Fink, making it very clear my dislike for the fellow. I told her how he appeared to be much more dominant than Twitch but how the Reverend was doing a good job of keeping him down. She nodded and took notes, every so often stopping for a drink of her coffee. My description of Twitch was a lot longer. She commented, telling me she  
understood that I had a real connection with the softer personality and I completely agreed.

“He’s real nice y’know? He’s kind and gentle and always reassures me. I sound crazy don’t I?”

“No, no not at all. I have no doubt that those voices are actually there and it is only normal to hold up a conversation. You can’t escape them when they are in your head, unlike the outside world where you can simply walk away or ignore a phone call.”

“Yeah, they’re in your head. They can hear your thoughts and stuff so it’s only logical that you can’t escape them. Like, right now, Twitch is agreeing.” He was, “and I haven’t heard a peep from Fink in days.”

“That’s a good start. Twitch seems strong enough to suppress him. But just be on your guard Billie Joe. He doesn’t seem nice at all.”

She was talking about them as if they were real people. Was she patronising me? Or was she simply trying to make me feel at ease? Less crazy? Who knows, therapists are all quacks. I explained this to her, leaving out my opinion of course, and she simply told me that she speaks of them like that because she has no doubt that they are actually there. I guess what she meant was they’re real ‘people’ just not people. Y’know?

I guess you don’t. I hope you never will. It’s deafening in my own mind.

***

Going home felt weird. Adi talked to me in the car and I responded as best I could but my heart just wasn’t in it. My stomach was sore and my chest ached with loss of hope.

Everything below my waist was pins and needles and even moving my own arms seemed alien.

My ears were ringing. The continuous ‘eeeee’ of my cells dying, like the long lost swan song. Fear coursed through my veins, sweat formed on my brow and the reason why hit me hard between the eyes; Twitch had failed.


	23. Shark cage.

It wasn’t meant to be simple, I know that now. It wasn’t meant to just disappear and god damn it I shouldn’t have been so naïve to think that it did. I could hear nothing over the blood pumping in my ears, my wife’s voice was muffled and the sounds of the television were no existent. The images on the screen were jumbled, twisted into a flurry of colours and shapes.

I was pretty sure that Adi had the heating turned up, and that there was a blanket wrapped around my frail shoulders, but despite this I was freezing. There was a smell, like burning rubber or tar ; or both. A shiver ran up and down my spine.

 **“Finally, the faggots out of the way.”**

“What?” I thought.

I chewed on my finger nails and squeezed my eyes shut. Beside me Adi shifted.

 **“God, feels good to be out of the cage.”**

“No.” I cried, “No.”

Adi was shaking me, her hands held tightly onto my shoulders and she was almost screaming my name. I clenched my left fist and dug my canine down into the flesh of my thumb.

“What did you do with him?” Whether the dialogue was internal or not, I can’t quite recall. It all seemed too lost within itself to really determine anything.

The laughter that occurred inside my mind was haunting; it was maniacal and sadistic and lingered there for weeks after. I would wake, hearing that laughter and shaking from head to toe. I pushed Adi away from me and pulled my knees tight against my chest. My head was drawn down to rest upon them. I can’t begin to imagine how crazy I looked and the fear that must have ran through my wife veins. I just know that the world seemed to be folding in on itself, that my last bit of sanity was being raped.

“I-I’m calling Mike.”

“Don’t.” I screamed, “Please, just – just go. Go and take the kids. I’ll be fine.”

“No. I ‘m not leaving you.”

I gazed up at her; she was standing not even two feet away. I could just take hold of her wrist; I could snap those fragile – No.

“You have to fucking go. I’ll hurt you. I – I’ll kill you.” I hugged my knees and placed my chin upon them; my eyes were forced shut. I couldn’t look at her pained expression any longer, “Like I did to Mike. I stabbed him. Fuck I could have killed him.”

“Billie Joe –“

“Don’t. Just leave.”

I could feel Fink’s black essence seeping into my capillaries, through my blood stream. He was like bacteria infecting my entire body and attacking my white cells slowly. And the last I can remember my vision was dying. The shapes and colours were fading, Adi’s screams became distant and finally, I was asleep. I was dreaming.

I was dancing, waltzing along with Adi. On the sidelines I could see my children sitting with a rather awkward looking man. He wore a bomber jacket, white sunglasses and a set of bright red rosary beads. His hair was belched blonde and on his lap there was a top hat. He caught me looking and waved, flashing a million dollar smile as he did so. This, I knew, was Twitch. I look back in the direction of my wife only to discover she was no longer there, no, instead there stood Mike. His white suit contrasted my black one and our bodies fit perfectly as one. We were surrounded by faceless people, twirling round and round to the beat of the music. I gazed into Mike’s wonderfully blue eyes and they took me away; we were the only living ones on the dance floor, the rest were just mannequins.

“You’re safe here.” He said, his voice echoed a floated above us.

“I can’t stay.” I whispered.

I closed my eyes and lent forward to place my head against his chest, instead I fell. I clashed my head off the floor and was surprised at the amount of pain that ran through me. Was this not a dream?

“Mike?” I asked, as I looked up.

Twitch stood over me, his face in shadow. Beside him stood another figure, his hair black as night and his eyes; god, his eyes. They burned a deep, gruelling green, the whites were blood shot and the skin was dark beneath them.

 _“Alone.”_  It wasn’t Twitches soft voice but it came from his own mouth.

 **“Nothing left faggot, the sharks are out.”** Fink. It was definitely fink.

“No.” I cried, “No. No.”

“Mr Armstrong calm down.”

The voice was alien to me. It wasn’t until I heard the frantic voices of my wife and two best friends that I realised I wasn’t dreaming anymore. Beside me sat a young woman, with a washcloth and a stephoscope linked around her neck. She smiled gently and touched the cloth to my head.

“Shh.” She hummed.

“Mike?” I whispered, my voice was hoarse and brittle.

“I’m here BJ.” Mike came and knelt beside me, “You had a bit of a …..fit. It’s okay now. Just – Just stay calm okay?”

“It’s alright Mr Armstrong, this is common with your condition.” The young woman spoke, “You just went away.”

“Where – where did I go? Is Adi okay? Are the boys? Did I hurt anyone?”

“No. Everyone’s fine, just shaken up. You didn’t hurt anyone but yourself Billie Joe.”

For the first time I gazed around me. I was no longer in the living room; instead I sat on the kitchen tiles. Beside me there was glass and spots of blood. My hands were cut, my arms were torn and I could feel glass beneath my skin. Yet, nothing hurt.

“It was Fink.” I whispered.

“Yeah. We know. H-He told us.”

“Fuck. I thought he was gone.” Tears ran down my cheeks and I looked to Mike for some form of comfort. But instead I found heart ache and fear in his eyes. I swallow the lump in my throat and lent my head back against the woodwork, “He was meant to be gone.”

But he wasn’t gone; he wouldn’t ever be really gone.

It made me wonder how I could even have that amount of anger, that amount of self hatred within me to build such a character. I certainly never felt it before. It was sad to know that deep down that was how I saw myself, that was how I felt about myself and others.

My heart and mind were in tatters, just like my hands; So full of glass.


	24. Up all night.

It was due to carelessness and ignorance that Billie Joe was allowed to remain in outpatient care. For weeks he had on and off hallucinations, he took his pills as advised and also saw his doctor. Some episodes were more serious than others.

Needless to say Adi was scared for her life. The boys did what they could to help her out and regardless of their young ages; they weren’t scared of their father. Somehow they knew that he wouldn’t hurt them; and I hoped to God that they were right.

Our relationship had grown steadily stronger. Billie Joe always found away to spend more time with me. He used the ‘he’s my best friend, I need him’ speech on numerous occasions and, needless to say, it worked. But the guilt niggled at us both. We lay beside each other in silence, and that silence spoke louder than any words. We loved each other, that was for sure, but it was tearing us apart trying to love our families too.

We fucked damn near everday. It was passionate yet rough. He offered himself to me and I took him in every sense of the word.

But he was always just Billie Joe. Twitch never made an appearance during our sexual games nor, thankfully, did Fink.

I lay beside him, naked and spent for our evening of sex and he laid his head gently upon my chest. I fingered the dark curls, twisted them between my fingers and relished in the softness. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I could feel his hot breath on my skin.

“BJ?” I asked, he ‘humffed’ in response, “What’s it like there?”

He shifted, “Where Mikey?”

I gently patted his head, “In there?”

He took a deep breath and sighed. His arms squeezed me tighter and he entangled his legs with mine. Yet, he still faced away from me.

“It’s cold. Always so cold. Like winter but more bitter. L-Like I am in this baron wasteland of nothing but Ice. In each direction there’s a void. I’m alone and scared. It’s a constant battle to keep power in my own body. Fink and Twitch aren’t the only two personas, I can feel more. One for each emotion, for each side; each face. I’m remembering things that aren’t even mine to remember. And I go to sleep, not knowing what the fuck to expect. Will I wake up behind my own eyes or will it be in a hospital bed?”

I squeezed him tightly and didn’t object when he gripped his nail’s into my skin.

Mikey.” He voice was hoarse with tears, “Its hell.”

A lump formed in my throat. I brought him close to me. I kissed his head, and ran my hands along his skin.

“I’m here baby.” I whispered.

He curled in to a ball, his skin was covered in goose pimples and his body was shaking. I pulled the sheets up over our bodies and held him close to my chest.

“Nothing’s going to save me, you know that right?”

“No. It’s a lie BJ. You’ll make it.”

“You’re naive Michael.”

“You’re a realist.”

****

After a quick shower and a cup of strong coffee, Mike drove me home. The journey was silent except for the constant screams of ‘The Clash.’ The town was quiet and the sun was low in the sky, everything was so beautiful and majestic.

It was undisrupted. The suburbs were just as they should be; Homely and full of peace. We rolled up to my house in Mike’s vehicle and, for a few moments, we just sat listening to the music.

“I feel like a naughty teenage girl.” I said, blushing.

“What? All bitchy and whiney?” Mike joked.

“I feel like, when I walk inside, Adi will know I was up to something wrong. “

“That’s what you call this? Wrong?”

I looked to Mike; his expression was one of hurt. I bit my lip and gazed away.

“You know what I mean. It’s wrong in the sense that we are both married men. S’all I mean.” It was. I nothing about this was wrong, I have nothing against homosexuality. Only thing was, we were both men in committed relationships. And there were children involved.

“Yeah, I know.” Was his simple reply. I could tell that he didn’t believe me.

I sighed, bid him goodbye and jumped out of the car. As I was walking away I heard his door open.

“BJ, wait.”

I turned to face him, my hands in my pockets and my face kept as ill concerned as possible.

“You know I would leave her for you, right? I mean, I – I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

I chewed on the side of my mouth, “There may not be ‘a rest of days’ for me, Mike. I love you too but you are better staying with Britt.”

He ran up to me and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“BJ. Don’t say that. I couldn’t live without you man.”

“Don’t you say that! Don’t!” I wrapped my arms around him, “I’m not worth it.”

There was silence. Mike pulled away from me and placed a hand on either side of my face.

“You are more than worth it.” He said, his sapphire eyes gazing right into mine.

“S-should we really be standing in my driveway like this?” I asked.

Typical of me. Once things start getting too cheesy, I make a joke. He let go of my face and put his hands behind his back. I smiled, once again bid him good bye and turned to leave.

“We’ll figure this out BJ.” He said.

I continued walking as if he hadn’t spoken.

***

They say only lonely people are up in the middle of the night. Well, I guess you can call me lonely then. Here I was at 3:45 am, standing in the kitchen looking out into the dark back yard. My reflection in the window was, to say the least, frightening. My skin was so pale, my raven hair was matted, my face was unkempt and my shoulder blades and ribs jutted from my flesh. Beneath my once bright emerald orbs my skin was dark making my eyes look sunken. On my chin there was a tuft of dark hair and rough stubble covered my cheeks.

If anyone were to see me they would surely think I was insane. The man staring back at me from the window was not Billie Joe; this man was unknown to me.

I sighed and turned my back to the glass. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeezed my eyes shut and growled deep in my throat. Whatever these pills were meant to do, they weren’t doing it.

“What am I going to do?” I asked myself.

Nothing. I got no answer, no sneer; no voice at all.

“Twitch? If you’re there, man, help.” I whined aloud, “If anybody is in there. Help me.”

Twitch and Fink couldn’t be the only two personas in there. I began to pace the tiles and gently beat the heels of my hands off my skull.

“Help.Help.Help.” I muttered over and over, “You can’t be the only two fuckers in there! I am crazy enough to have more homosexual and homicidal fuckers!”

 **“Shut the fuck you maggot! Jesus!”**

“I ask for help and you fucking answer me!”

 **“I was fucking asleep. Try it sometime fag.”**

“Fuck you.”

I growled, threw myself against the centre island and slid down until my ass hit the tiles. What must I have looked like? Sitting in nothing but my overly large pyjama pants with my hands fisted into my hair? Mad.

My stomach gave a painful lurch and I took hold of my chest as my heart sped up. It beat furiously against my ribs, breath caught in my throat and my lungs ached. Ringing sounded in my ears and my temples began to pound.

No.

No. This can’t happen.

My hands were shaking, my skin was crawling; the floor below me span. The pain was unbearable and, in that moment, I begged for God to let it end. How could such a cruel being be part of me.

“Jesus, Jesus.” I muttered.

I began to sigh my Hail Mary’s, something I had never done in my life.

 **“You really are too weak, Armstrong.”**

I cringed as his voice rang throughout my head. I could feel him forcing himself forward, pushing through the brain tissue and trying to get hold of the wheel. I prayed harder but it was no good. He was shoving and struggling too much. I just couldn’t beat him.

Next thing I know I am awake, but not in control. I can hear and see everything going on around me but I am helpless to stop it. Fear sets in as this monster gets to his feet. After months of nothing and now this, where had my control went? Had my strength and passion fallen that much?

 **“Fuck you’re a wreck.”**  Fink, I, said aloud.

He stood in front of the glass and started to inspect himself. He poked at his eyelids, pulled the flesh beneath them down and gazed at the innards of my eyes. He flexed my fragile muscles and twisted my mouth in a un-amused smirk.

 **“Fucking wimp you are.”**  He snarled,  **“Say. When was the last time your bitch got any?”**

“No Fink, no. Please. Leave her alone!” I begged.

 **“She doesn’t’ have a damned clue about you and Mikey boy, does she? And Tre ain’t gonna rat on ya. Fuck, I bet even Brittney has no idea. Tut tut Billy boy, you know what you’re doing is wrong. You always talk about truth and honesty; well your morals are a farce.”**

“Who are you to judge me!?”

 **“I am you. I am in control; I am god.”**

If he was ‘God’ then please, send me to hell.


	25. End of the line.

Something told me that all was not well between Brittney and I. She kept her distance that evening after coming home from work. She knew Billie and me had spent the day ‘hanging out’, as we did almost every day, but she had never before acted this way towards that fact.

Even when I questioned her she simply gave me a stern look and brushed it off. After she came home from work that evening (because even if I am rather wealthy, a girl still needs something to keep her busy) our evening continued on as normal. I made dinner, we ate, Brixton was put to bed and then we sat down to watch television. She sat at the far end of the couch, as if trying to avoid me at all costs. She had a book open on her lap, a cup of tea held in her hand and a distant look on her face. She was no doubt reading the book but was finding it hard to concentrate on the words; I knew her expressions all too well.  
“You alright Brit?” I asked, taking my eyes from the television for a moment.

She didn’t reply, just nodded.

“You sure?”

The book was snapped shut and my wife stood to her full height before walking by me into the kitchen. Turning off the sitcom I had been watching, I followed her.

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t what me Michael!”

She slammed a fist down upon the worktop. I took a step forward, never taking my eyes off her. She was hysterical, never before had I seen her so angry and wild eyed.

“I know, Michael!” She spat at me, “about you and Billie fucking Joe!”

I opened and closed my mouth like a retarded fish, trying to find something to say. But what possibly was there? She marched over to me and stood, looking directly into my face. Her expression was stern.

“You don’t even have the balls to deny it!”

Before I could even think of a reply the palm of her hand hit hard against my cheek. I stumbled backwards and stared wide eyed at her. Tears flowed down her cheeks, her teeth were bore; like a wild animal.

“Brit…I…I.—“

“No. No. Don’t you fucking dare say you’re sorry.” She took a breath, “How long!?”

“Br—“

“How long!!?”

“Just after Billie was attacked.” I sighed.

She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. The kitchen was silent apart from our ragged breathing and the hum of the fridge. Moments passed were we simple stared at each other. However, Brittney eventually wondered to the stairs and took them slowly, two at a time. I gingerly went to stand at their bottom and listen as I heard her wrecking in Brixton’s room. My heart fell as she reappeared carrying my son in one arm and a bag over the other. The child rubbed at his eyes with his small hands and yawned.

“What are you doing?!” I stammered.

“I’m going to my sisters for a while.”

“You’re taking my son!”

“I don’t want him round you.” She spat, “Don’t contact me.”

I opened my mouth to speak but she silenced me.

“I need to contact my lawyer in the morning.”

“L-lawyer?”

“I can’t possibly stay with you,” she chuckled darkly, “not after what you’ve done to me.”  
With that she waltzed toward the front door and slammed it behind her. I stood rooted to the spot.

“She’s taking your son you idiot!” my mind screamed.

I dashed out on to the porch, my heart pounding, tears forming in my eyes. She was already in the car, the tires crunching on the stones of the driveway.

“No! No you can’t do this!”

But it was too late; she already had me in her rear view mirror.


	26. Control.

When the whine of my cell phone brought me from the innards of my mind, I was more than reluctant to answer it. I was lying across the couch, the television was the only source of light in the room and the only sound was that of the cell. Upon the screen flashed the words 'Adrienne.'

I sighed, reached for the device and answered the call.

“Adi, I really --” I was cut off by a stream of frantic, jumbled, words, “Calm down Adi. Whats wrong?”

“Billie. I don't know, he – he's not himself.” her voice was riddled with anxiety.

I sat bolt up right with my bare feet planted firmly on the floor ; I could feel the dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

“How do you mean, Adi?” I asked firmly, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice.

There was a distant smash on the other end of the phone and a slight squeal from the woman. I couldn't help but cringe.

“H-he's just breaking things. He threatened me and the boys.”

“Where are you now?”

“Locked in my bedroom. Mike, please come over. Bring Tre and – and Brittney,” The name cut through me, “ I don't care just bring anyone!”

The line went dead before I could muster up a reply.

I jumped to my feet, threw on the first jacket I could find and slipped on my shoes. While I dashed to the car, I called up Tre.

“Holy fucking buns. I'll get over there now!”

Everything, from the end of that brief phone call, until Billie Joe's home, was a blur; A haze of emotion and thoughts. Brittney, my beloved, had just left me that evening with my son in her arms. Now, here I was, just five ours later, speeding towards my best friends home where he has gone 'Fink' on his family. How did it all get to this?

Tre's car was parked on the street opposite the house. I pulled up behind him, climbed out of the vehicle and headed across the street. Tucked neatly into the back of my pants was a gun, one I had kept in the glove compartment since the last time I was mugged ; and if needs be I would use it.

**

What ever war was going on inside Armstrong's head, I didn't like it ; and being held at knife point didn't help matters.

As far as I knew, Tre was upstairs getting the more sane of the Armstrong clan out of the house. Whether the police had been called or not, I didn't know, but for Billie's sake I hoped not.

In reality it was not Billie who stood before me, but Fink. The crazed expression accompanied by the evil glint in his eyes was that of the German persona ; not of our beloved BJ.

I never considered myself a hero, even after that evening. When Tre and I had knocked and banged our way into the house, Fink was smashing a large, metal baseball bat against the walls and sending vases to the floor. He was shirtless, bleeding from various wounds and ,from the looks of it, he had been snipping at his hair again.

After a few sneak attacks and some verbal abuse, I found myself pinned against the kitchen floor. The bat was beneath the hall table and in its place was a large, bread knife. The injuries I had obtained before then were forgotten as I edge of the blade pressed against my neck.

Above me, straddled upon my waist , Fink laughed manically. His eyes were wide with excitement, his lips pulled into a cruel grin and, for once, his face displayed his true age.  
Despite all effort, I couldn't stop myself trembling in fear.

Slowly, Fink lent over my body, the blade still pressed to my neck and brought his lips to my ear.

“You like me on top, don't you Michael?” he whispered before quickly nipping my earlope.  
I bit my lip and begged my body not to react.

He kissed me gently on the cheek, then on the tip of my nose and then my lips. He grew passionate and I couldn't help but allow him to. It was hot and wet and messy in all its intensity.

“No.” I moaned , “I – we can't.”

I shifted beneath him carefully as he sat upright. The blade was pushed a little more into the flesh of my neck.

“I could fuck you right here Michael. I would take you and fuck you like a rag doll,” He deliberately rubbed himself against my straining erection, “ I could make you my play thing if I wanted to.”

Slowly he stood, all the while the blade still held firmly to my throat.

“Fact is; I don't want you.”

Tears filled my eyes at the relisation of his words. I tried to tell myself it was Fink, not Billie; but it still hurt. He brought his bare foot to rest on my chest, the blade cut into my neck and I bit back a sob.

"You aren't worth the bloodshed, Michael."

With that, he swiftly straightened up and made his way to the back yard. I lay still, staring at the plaster upon the ceiling and replaying the scene in my head. My body was shaking with lust or fear; I couldn't tell.

The muffled sound of Fink's footfalls on the wooden porch moved in time with my heartbeat. I lay and listened. When they stopped, I got to my feet and, absent-mindedly, made a beeline for the backyard.

There, upon the garden love seat, sat Fink. He was slouched, his head bowed and he was gently grazing the knife along the inner side of his left arm. I stood, motionless watching the shell of a man before me.

It wasn't until he began to drag the blade roughly along his flesh that I bolted forward.

“Fink-”

I ceased his right arm but he roughly kicked me in the stomach sending me stumbling of the porch and on to the flowerbed below. I gritted my teeth as my back hit off something solid, most likely a stone.

“No, Fink-” I pulled myself up onto my feet and wiped the dirt from my clothes, “Stop this!”

“Fink?” he chuckled, “Fink isn't here. Twitch isn't here. It's just me; Alone.”

Even as he cut deeper into his flesh, I couldn't move. The awe and shock of what was unfolding had me struck with fear.

“Billie? W-what are you doing? Come on man. Don't.”

“This is pointless you know. Nothing is working. I'm stuck like this forever because of those little punk bastards!” He sighed ,” I have no life like this. I watched up try to rape my beautiful Adi and I listened as he told her everything.”

“I'm so fucking weak that I couldn't stop him.” he sharply slit his arm and I cringed, “ I can only see one way out of this.” Another, “And it's not pretty.” With that he dragged the blade from his palm to his elbow.

I screamed, at least I think I did. The moment is blurred in my mind and even now I can't fully grasp what happened. It was as if all time had stopped.

When the paramedics arrived , accompanied by Tre and the Jason's, I was on my knees in the flower bed, weeping into the lilys.

“Come on now,” Tre took me by the arm and dragged me to my feet, “Lets follow them to the hospital.”

Billie Joe wasn't struggling or making a fuss; instead he lay still upon the stretcher. As we followed them out to the front of the house, the paramedics shouted things such as 'VP low' and 'Excessive blood loss.'

Tre and Ade were talking, she was crying; but all I could hear was the ringing in my ears.


	27. Steady as he goes.

What happened to the man on the stage? ; the grown boy and his guitar? He had been the Jesus to so many, the philosopher and the politician all in one. Now, here he was, stitched together like a rag doll ; sedated, in a hospital bed.

Oh how the mighty fall.

The minutes melted into hours. Voices merged and became like white noise to my ears. There was only me and Billie Joe; everyone else was a supporting cast.

Adrienne and the boys were made to wait in a family room. Tre, the Jasons and I were questioned about that evenings events. I, unlike the other men, remained silent for the duration of the discussion.

Their words meant nothing to me and I couldn't tell if they were defending or condemning Billie. I could only hope it was the former.

As hopeless as the situation was, I still searched for a way out. I tried to find any possible reason why Billie Joe would have attacked his family; anything other than homicide or insane.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, we were dismissed. Tre and the Jasons went back to the family room while I wondered down the hallway to Billie's bed side. There I stood, gazing down at the man I loved so deeply and allowed myself to weep.

He looked so fragile. His arms were cut to ribbons, his bones jutted from his skin; even his heart beat seemed different. Yet, under sedation, he looked peaceful.

“BJ -” I chocked, “what happened? Where did this all go wrong?” I shook my head, “If – when I get my hands on those punks; I'll kill them for what they've done to you.”

I cried more than I had done in weeks. I felt the pain of my looming divorce and the inevitable fight for custody, the fear for Billie Joe and the guilt for his family. Each rolled into the next; and it seemed like nothing made any sense.

To hell with my pride.

I woke to find myself with my head on Billie's shoulder, my backside on a chair and my back covered with a worn, hospital blanket. My whole body was stiff from the awkward way I had lay.

“When did it get this hard?”

I yawned and gazed at Adrienne, who was sat beside me.

“When God decided he wanted a show.” I answered.

Adrienne nodded. In her hands she held a set of rosary and I watched as she twirled the beads between her fingers.

“I didn't know you were religious.

““I'm not.” she sighed, “But someone once told me that God loves a trier.”

“Well, that some one lied.”

“Why do you say that?”

I felt tears well in my eyes, “A God who lets this happen to a good man like Billie Joe doesn't love anyone. He's playing a game and we are his puppets. If that is the God we are stuck with; I don't want to know him.”

We sat in silence. I didn't know if I had insulted her or not, but frankly I was in no mood to second guess.

A few nurses walked in and out, checking vitals and what not. I paid no attention to them, nor did Adi; we simply gazed at the man we both loved.

“Bill- That  _thing_ , told me about you and Billie.” she whispered.

My heart sunk. I couldn't look at her; I didn't want to see the pain in her eyes.

“Yes. Brittney knows too. She figured it out and left me last night.”

“ I can't say I'm not hurt Mike, but, who am I to stand in the way of love.” her voice was hoarse, “ I'll probably feel angrier after this is all over.”

I nodded.

“I'm Sorr-”

“I know. But I don't want to hear it.”

“ For the safety of your family, Mrs Armstrong, and for the safety of those around your husband, I am afraid we have no choice but to commit him.”

Billie Joe wasn't even awake yet and already they were condemning him. I put my arm around Adi's shoulders only to have it thrown off.

“However,” The doctor went on, “His condition is...not the best. To say he will be committed is no guarantee that he will survive.”

“But – but there's a good chance, isn't there?” Adi asked.

“Mrs Armstrong, you have to understand the extent of the damage that your husband has done to his body. His heart is weak from his starvation and he has severe damage to his arteries. We also found rather deep wounds on his thighs and some were infected.” he sighed, “Maam, without being rude; I wouldn't hold my breath.”

He nodded solemnly and left the room.

Adi sat in silence. I looked from her to my friends and then to the boys. No one, despite the news we had just received, was crying.

“W-why are you all so fucking calm?” I snapped, tears running down my cheeks, “He could die! Our Billie could die and non of you give a damn? Non of you can even shed a tear?”

“Mike. Shut up.” Adi said.

“Billie Joe's strong, Mike. He can beat this.” White whispered.

There was a murmur of agreement ; either everyone didn't give a damn or they were just too scared to try.


	28. Fire and Ice.

_Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favour fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice._

 _Robert Frost_

On Wednesday the 5th of September, my son said his first words. On that same day a woman and man were married in a local church and a young girl was killed on the high street. The 5th of September will never be a day I will forget; it was the day my best friend, and lover, passed away.

It was a combination of his condition and 'self' abuse. His body had had enough of his mind, and decided to divorce; much like me and Brittney.

The exact reason Billie Joe died, I still don't want to know. Adi pressed about everything, all the gory details, but I wanted none of it. The fact that Billie was better off, away from Twitch and Fink, from the hassle between me and Adi, made me feel better. Not much, but better none the less.

Adi cried into my chest, the very man whom had slept with her husband. She wept and wept until she couldn't any more. I stood silently, while the doctor talked. I was too shocked to move, let alone cry.

 _“He's strong Mike. He'll get through this.”_

But he didn't. His heart couldn't take it ;and he gave in.

“Mike?”

I gazed up into the face of our drummer, one Tre Cool. He wielded a cup of coffee in one hand and in the other, a box of tissues.

“You keep spacing out buddy.” he set the mug upon the table before patting my shoulder, “Gotta hang in there.”

It had been a stressful day, full of crying and condolences. Never had I seen so many black suits or such a crowd in a chapel before. My head was hurting, I was dying for a smoke and I was seriously considering suicide.

If this was me, how must Adi and the boys be feeling? Or Billie's mother?

“We'll survive this Mike.” Tre sighed.

“Maybe.” I whispered, “But when will it stop hurting?”

Tre lowered his head to stare at the tops of his shoes. He knew as well as me that it would never stop hurting. Losing Billie Joe, felt like losing a part of me. With out him I wasn't a whole person, I was little more than half a person; I felt like nothing.

“It-”

“Will never stop hurting?” I finished.

Tre nodded, “I can't lie. If I'm feeling this shit, how must you be feeling? You haven't cried a bit since he died.”

“I don't cry. I can't cry.”

“It would help.” Tre sighed, “Why can't you just let it out?”

“Because, crying is like admitting it's happened. I would rather live in blissful denial. Even if it means never grieving.”

“You can't just pretend it didn't happen. Billie Joe is dead. The band is finished. Everything is over. Our best friend is gone and there is no replacing him.”

The words hit me like a truck. I sat, still and staring, at the wall ahead of me. My hands were shaking, my heart beat grew fast and not once did I blink, in all the time that I stared ; I just watched.

In my mind, I begged for it all to be a dream. I begged the God I never knew or believed in to let it not be true; to bring my lover back to me. But it was the end and there was no getting round it. For me ,there was no happy ending.

“B-billie wouldn't want me to cry.” I whimpered, “He would want me to move on. Be happy.”

“He would want you to cry alittle. Come on now, this is BJ, it wouldn't be worth It if he didn't get some tears shed for him.” Tre joked, “He was a real self centred bastard sometimes,”  
his voice broke, “ Y-you know that.”

I looked to him; the happy, care free Tre cool. His shoulders jerked with sobs, his cheeks were streaked with tears, and I thought to myself 'If such a strong man as Tre can break, why shouldn't I?'.

And I let myself cry.

We both wept together, and recalled all the good times. We drank beer until we ran out and then, rather drunkly, Tre went to retrieve some blankets from the linen closet.

“You don't have to stay the night, man.” I said.

“No, I want to. I don't want to be alone and I'm sure you don't.”

I wiped my eyes and nodded before curling into the fabric of the couch. A blanket was thrown over me and, across the room, Tre settled into the recliner. By the fire, Mikko whined in his dreams. The rest of my home was silent; deadly silent.

I hadn't heard from Brittney, even at the funeral she kept her distance. I hadn't seen my little boy, not in 4 god damned days. What was my life now with out them or Billie Joe? Was Adi holding me responsible? Would Tre go his own way? Was the band over?

One thing was for certain, the world didn't end in fire or in ice; it ended with Billie Joe Amrstrong.


End file.
